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TOMMY EEMINGTON’S 
BATTLE 









:*' 4 ' 

__ _ __ 

“‘d’ y’ know what this is?’ jabez smith asked, holding out 

THE STRIP OF PAPER.” 












|JfNiaO^B®KS 

RTommy7 

I REMINGTON’S 
I^BATTJ^E?^ 


I BURTON-EGBERT- STEVENSON 



: newyork THE CENTURY CO MCMii 


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THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS, 

T’vo Cowes Recsivhd 

SEP. 16 1902 

CoeVRinHT ENTRY 

//* ^ 

CIGARS ^XXe No. 
J-h I ^ h ^ 

copy B. 


Copyright, 1901, hy 
Burton Egbert Stevenson 
Copyright, 1902, by 
The Century Co. 

Published October, 1902 


THE DEVINNE PRESS 


“when the fight begins within himself, 

A MAN ’S WORTH SOMETHING.” 


browning’s “men and women” 










CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I Tommy Kemington Finds a Circus 

Poster 3 

II The First Shot of the Battle . 22 

III The Dawning of a New Day . . 39 

IV Tommy Eoams in an Enchanted 

Land 56 

V J:^bez Smith Makes a Business 

Proposition 74 

VI Miss Andrews Accepts an Invita- 

tion 92 

VII The Good World ! 108 

VIII Good-by to New Eiver Valley . 121 
IX A Glimpse of a New AVorld . . 141 

X An Effort in Self-denial . . . 159 

XI A Glimpse of Princeton . . . .178 

XII Joy and Sorrow 200 

XIII Back to New Eiver Valley . . 219 

XIV A Boy’s Battle ....... 238 

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1 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

D’ y’ know wkat this is?’’ Jabez Smith 
asked, holding out the strip of 
paper Frontispiece 

She turned quickly and saw standing 

there one of the boys 15 ^ 

She hurried forward toward him, her face 

alight with pleasure 41 

He picked out the letters he knew, to make 

certain he had not forgotten them . . 49 

Often, as he bent over his books, he would 
catch the tinkle of a banjo or a strain 
of college song 181 

Then the full-back was upon him .... 215 


Up on the mountain-side Tommy was in- 
deed fighting the battle of his life . . 241 







TOMMY REMINGTON’S 
BATTLE 


i 


• > 


» 



r 


1 



TOMMY EEMINGTON’S 
BATTLE 


CHAPTEK I 


TOMMY REMINGTON FINDS A CIRCUS 
POSTER 


ISSOISTS were ended for the day. 



I J and an unwonted noise and bustle 
filled the little school-house as the children 
caught up their books and hats, eager to 
breathe again the fresh air with the keen 
scent of the woods in it, to revel in the 
bright sunshine bathing hill and valley. 

“ Good-by, Miss Bessie.” 

“ Good-by, dear.” 

Three or four of the girls had lingered 
for the parting greeting, and then they, 
too, hurried away, while Miss Andrews 


3 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

stood in the school-house door and looked 
after the little figures as they tripped 
down the narrow path toward the group 
of coal-grimed houses which made the 
town of Wentworth, and she sighed un- 
consciously as they passed from sight be- 
hind an ugly pile of slack. It was not a 
pretty scene, this part along the river 
which man had made, with its crazy coal- 
tipples, its rows of dirty little cabins, its 
lines of coke-ovens, and the grime of 
coal-dust over everything. 

How different was that part of nature’s 
handiwork which had been left unmarred ! 
Mountain after mountain, clothed in green 
to the very summit, towered up from the 
narrow valley where 'New River picked its 
difficult way along, over great boulders 
and past beetling cliffs. How many cen- 
turies had it taken the little stream to cut 
for itself this pathway through the very 
heart of the Alleghanies! With what 
exhaustless patience had it gone about 
the task, washing away a bit of earth 
4 


Tommy Finds a Circus Poster 

here, undermining a great rock there, 
banking up yonder behind some mountain 
wall which it could not get around, until 
it overtopped it and began the work of 
eating it away — so had it labored on, 
never wearying, never resting, never grow- 
ing discouraged, seeking always the easi- 
est way around the mountain-foot, but 
when no such way could be found, attack- 
ing the great wall before it with un- 
daunted courage, singing at its work and 
splashing brightly in the sunshine — until 
at last it 'had conquered, as such perse- 
verance always must, and springing clear 
of the hills, dashed joyously away across 
the level plains which would lead it to 
the sea. 

And all this labor had not been in vain, 
for nature’s work had rendered man’s 
much easier when the time came to build 
a railroad over these mountains in order 
that the great wealth of coal and iron 
and other minerals which lay buried under 
them might be brought forth and so be- 
5 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

come of value to the world. The eugi- 
neers who were sent forward to find a 
way for the road soon saw that the 'New 
River valley had been placed there, as it 
were, by Providence, for this very pur- 
pose, and when the road was built, it did 
not attempt to go straight forward, as 
railroads always like to do, but crept pa- 
tiently along the river’s edge, following 
every winding, until the mountains were 
left behind. And the great men who 
built the road were very thankful for this 
little stream’s assistance. 

It was not at the mountains nor at the 
river that Bessie Andrews looked, but at 
the grimy cabins of the miners, scattered 
along the hillside, and she thought with a 
sigh how little successful she had been 
in winning the hearts of their occupants. 
She had come from Richmond in a flush 
of happiness at her good fortune in 
getting the school, and determined to 
make a success of it, but she found it 
“ uphill work ” indeed. 

6 


Tommy Finds a Circus Poster 

Her story was that of so many other 
Southern girls coming of families old and 
one time wealthy, but ruined by the Civil 
War. The father, who had gone forth to 
battle in the strength of his young man- 
hood, left his right arm on the bloody 
field at Gettysburg, and came home, at 
last, to find himself quite ruined. He 
could get no laborers to cultivate his fields, 
rank with the weeds of four years’ neglect; 
his stock had been seized by one or other 
of the armies, for both had fought back 
and forth across his land, with a necessity 
of need that knew no law ; his people had 
been freed, and, excepting two or three of 
the older house- servants who had grown 
gray in the family’s service, had drifted 
away no one knew whither. For three 
years he struggled to bring order out of 
this desolation, but the task was greater 
than his strength. So the plantation was 
sold for a mere fraction of its worth be- 
fore the war, and the family had moved 
to Richmond, in the hope that life there 
7 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

would be easier. There, ten years after 
the city fell before Grant’s army, Bessie 
Andrews was born ; and there, some twelve 
years later, her father died, gray before his 
time, bowed down with care, so broken 
by his grim battle with the world that 
disease found him an easy victim. 

So Bessie Andrews had never known 
the luxury and kindliness and easy hos- 
pitality of the old plantation life, but 
its influences and traditions lived still in 
her blood. She was a gentlewoman, with 
all a gentlewoman’s shrinking from the 
tragic and sordid and mean things in life ; 
so it was only after a struggle with her- 
self, as well as with her widowed mother, 
that she had ventured forth into the world 
to attempt to add something to the scanty 
income left them by her father. She had 
been educated with some care, at home 
for the most part, so she tried to secure a 
position as teacher in the public schools, 
deciding that it was this she was best 
fitted for; but there were no vacancies. 

8 


Tommy Finds a Circus Poster 

Yet the superintendent, impressed by her 
earnestness, promised to keep her in mind, 
and one day sent for her. 

I have a letter here,” he said, “ from 
one of the directors of a little school near 
Wentworth, in the mining district. He 
wants me to send him a teacher. Do you 
think you would care for the place?” 

Miss Andrews gasped. She had not 
thought of leaving home. Yet she could 
do even that, if need be. 

“ I think I should be very glad to have 
the place,” she said. “ Do you know any- 
thing about it, sir?” 

He shook his head. 

^‘Very little. I do not imagine the 
region is attractive, but the salary is fair, 
and the director who has written me this 
letter, and who seems to be a competent 
man, will board you without extra expense. 
Think it over and let me know your de- 
cision to-morrow.” 

There was a very tearful interview be- 
tween mother and daughter that night, 
9 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

but it was evident to both of them that 
the place must be accepted. 

“ If I could only go with you,” said her 
mother, at last. But Bessie silenced her 
with an imperative little gesture. 

“Absurd!” she cried. “Do you think 
I would let you go with me into that wil- 
derness, little mother ? Besides,” she 
added, laughing, “I doubt very much if 
the director would consent to board the 
whole family. My one appetite may appal 
him and make him repent his bargain. 
And I shall not be gone very long — only 
until June.” 

So it was settled, and the next day 
the superintendent formally recommended 
Miss Elizabeth Andrews as the teacher 
for the Wentworth school. In due time 
came the reply, directing her to report for 
duty at once, and she arrived at her jour- 
ney’s end one bright day in late September. 

She had determined from the first to 
make the people love her, but she found 
them another race from the genial, cul- 
10 


Tommy Finds a Circus Poster 

tiired, open-hearted Virginians who live 
along the Janies. Years of labor in the 
mines had marred their brains no less 
than their bodies; both, shut out from 
God’s pure air, and blue sky, and beauti- 
ful, green-clad world, grew crooked and 
misshapen, just as everything must do 
that has life in it. 

She had gone to work among them 
with brave face but trembling heart. 
There was no lack of children in the 
grimy cabins; it made her soul sick to 
look at them. She asked that she might 
be permitted to teach them. But she 
encountered a strange apathy. The pa- 
rents looked at her with suspicion. She 
was not one of them; why should she 
wish to meddle? Besides, the boys must 
help the men; the girls must help the 
women — even a very small girl can take 
care of a baby, and so lift that weight 
from the mother’s shoulders. 

“ But have the children never been 
sent to school?” she asked. 

11 


Tommy RemingtoiT s Battle 

No, they said, never. The other teachers 
did n’t bother them. Why should she? 
The children could grow up as^. their 
parents had. They had other things to 
think about besides going to school. 
There was the coal to be dug. 

A few of the better families sent their 
children, however — the superintendent, 
the school directors, the mine bosses, the 
fire bosses, — in the mines, every one is a 
“ boss ” who is paid a fixed monthly 
wage by the company, — but Bessie An- 
drews found herself every day looking 
over the vacant forms in the little school- 
house and telling herself that she had 
failed — that she had not reached the 
people who most needed it. 

More than once had she been tempted 
to confess her defeat, resign the place, 
and return to Richmond ; yet the sympa- 
thy and encouragement of Jabez Smith, 
the director who had secured her appoint- 
ment, gave her strength to keep up the 
fight. A simple, homely man, a justice of 
12 


Tommjr Finds a Circus Poster 

the peace and postmaster of Wentworth, 
he had welcomed her kindly, and she had 
found his house a place of refuge. 

“ Yon ’ll git discouraged,” he had said 
to her the first day, “ but don’t you give 
lip. Th’ people up here ain’t th’ kind 
you ’ve been used to, an’ it takes ’em 
some little time t’ git acquainted. Yon 
jest keep at it, an’ yon ’ll win out in the 
end.” 

There was another, too, who spoke 
words of hope and comfort — the Rev. 
Robert Bayliss, minister of the little 
church on the hillside, who had come, like 
herself, a pilgrim into this wilderness. 

Yon are doing finely,” he would say. 
“ Why, look at me. I ’ve been here four 
years, and am almost as far from my goal 
as yon are ; but I ’m not going to give up 
the fight till I get every miner and every 
miner’s wife into that church. As yet, I 
have n’t got a dozen of them.” 

And as she glanced askant at his firm 
month and determined chin, she decided 
13 


Tommy Remington’ s Battle 

inwardly that this was the kind of man 
who always won his battles, whether of 
the spirit or of the flesh. 

As she stood there in the school-house 
door, thinking of all this and looking out 
across the valley, she heard the whistle 
blow at the drift-mouth, a signal that no 
more coal would be weighed that day; 
and in a few moments she saw a line of 
men coming down the hillside toward 
her. She waited to see them pass, — 
grimy, weary, perspiring, fresh from the 
mine and the never-ending battle with 
the great veins of coal, — and she noted 
sadly how many boys there were among 
them. Some of them glanced at her 
shyly and touched their hats, but the 
most went by without heeding her, the 
younger, the driver-boys, laughing and 
jesting among themselves, the older 
tramping along in the silence of utter 
fatigue. She watched them as they went, 
and then turned slowly back into the 
room and picked up her hat. 

14 


■ ti' 


f 








* 


SHE TURNED QUICKLY AND SAW STANDING THERE ONE OF THE BOYS. 





Tommy Finds a Circus Poster 

Please, ma’am — ” said a timid voice 
at the door. 

She turned quickly and saw standing 
there one of the boys who had passed a 
moment before. 

“ Yes? ” she questioned, encouragingly. 
“ Come in, won’t yon?” 

The boy took off his cap and stepped 
bashfully across the threshold. 

“ Sit down here,” she said, and herself 
took the seat opposite. “ Now what can 
I do for yon?” 

He glanced up into her eyes. There 
was no mistaking their kindliness, and he 
gathered a shade more confidence. 

“Please, ma’am,” he said, “I wanted 
t’ ask yon t’ read this bill t’ me,” and he 
produced from his pocket a gaudy circus 
poster. “ They ’s been put up down at 
th’ deepot,” he added, in explanation, 
“ but none of ns boys kin read ’em.” 

She took the bill from him with quick 
sympathy. 

“Of course I ’ll read it to you,” she 

2 17 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

cried. And she proceeded to recount 
the wonders of “Bashford’s Great and 
Only Menagerie and Hippodrome” as 
described by the poster. Most of the 
high-flown language was, of course, quite 
beyond the boy’s understanding, but he 
sat with round eyes flxed on her face till 
she had flnished. It was a minute before 
he could speak. 

“What is that thing?” he asked at 
last, pointing to a great, unwieldy beast 
with wide-open mouth. 

“ That ’s a hippopotamus.” 

“A — a what? ” he asked wonderingly. 

“A hippopotamus — a river-horse.” 

“A river-horse,” he repeated; and his 
eyes grew rounder than ever. “ A horse 
what lives in th’ river? But it ain’t a 
horse,” he added, looking at it again to 
make certain. “It ain’t nothin’ like a 
horse.” 

“IS^o,” said Miss Andrews, smiling, 
“it ’s not a horse. That ’s only a name 
for it. See, here it is,” and she pointed 
18 


Tommy Finds a Circus Poster 

to the line below the picture. “^The 
Hippopotamus, the Great African Eiver 
Horse.’ ” 

He gazed at the line a moment in silence. 
Then he sighed. 

“I must go,” he said, and reached out 
his hand for the bill. 

“ But you have n’t told me your name 
yet,” she protested. “What is your name?” 

“ Tommy Remington,” he answered, 
his shyness back upon him in an instant. 

“And your father ’s a miner?” 

He nodded. She looked at him a mo- 
ment without speaking, rapidly consider- 
ing how she might say best what she 
wished to say. 

“ Tommy,” she began, “ would n’t you 
like to learn to read all this for yourself — 
all these books, all these stories,” and she 
waved her hand toward the little shelf 
above her desk. “It is a splendid thing — 
to know how to read ! ” 

He looked at her with eyes wide opened. 

“ But I could n’t ! ” he gasped incredu- 
19 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

lously. “ N^one of th’ boys kin. Why, 
even none of th’ men kin — none I know.” 

“Oh, yes, you could! ” she cried. “Any 
one can. The reason none of the other 
boys can is because they have never tried, 
and the men probably never had a good 
chance. Of course you can’t learn if you 
don’t try. But it ’s not at all difficult, 
when one really wants to learn. If you ’ll 
only come and let me teach you ! ” 

He glanced again at her face and then 
out across the valley. The shadows were 
deepening along the river, and above the 
trees upon the mountain-side great col- 
umns of white mist circled slowly upward. 

“Pi’omise me you ’ll come,” she re- 
peated. 

The boy looked back at her, and she 
saw the light in his eyes. 

“My father — ” he began, and stopped. 

“ I ’ll see your father,” she said impetu- 
ously. “ Only you must tell him you 
want to come, and ask him yourself. 
Promise me you ’ll do that.” 

20 


Tommy Finds a Circus Poster 

There was no resisting her in her great 
earnestness. 

I promise,” he whispered, and stooped 
to pick up his cap, which had fallen from 
his trembling fingers. 

“ If he refuses, I will see him to-morrow 
myself,” she said. ‘‘Remember, you are 
going to learn to read and write and 
to do many other things. Good night. 
Tommy.” 

“ Good night, ma’am,” he answered 
with uncertain voice, and hastened away. 

She watched him until the gathering 
darkness hid him, and then turned back, 
picked up her hat again, locked the door, 
and hurried down the path with singing 
heart. It was her first real victory — for 
she was certain it would prove a victory — 
and she felt as the traveler feels who, 
toiling wearily across a great waste of 
Alpine snow and ice, — shivering, deso- 
late, — comes suddenly upon a delicate 
fiower, looking up at him from the dreary 
way with a face of hope and comfort. 

21 


CHAPTER II 


THE EIRST SHOT OE THE BATTLE 

T ommy REMIYGTON, meanwhile, 
trudged on through the gathering 
darkness, his heart big with purpose. 
Heretofore the mastery of the art of read- 
ing had appeared to him, when he con- 
sidered the subject at all, as a thing 
requiring such tremendous effort as few 
people were capable of. Certainly he, 
who knew little beyond the rudiments of 
mining and the management of a mine 
mule, could never hope to solve the mys- 
tery of those rows of queer-looking char- 
acters he had seen sometimes in almanacs 
and old newspapers, and more recently on 
the circus poster he carried in his pocket. 
But now a new and charming vista was 
22 


The First Shot of the Battle 

of a sudden opened to him. The teacher 
had assured him that it was quite easy to 
learn to read, — that any one could do so 
who really tried, — and he rammed his 
fists deep down in his pockets and drew 
a long breath at the sheer wonder of the 
thing. 

It is difficult, perhaps, for a boy brought 
up, as most boys are, within sound of a 
school bell, where school-going begins in- 
evitably in the earliest years, where every 
one he knows can read and write as a 
matter of course, and where books and 
papers form part of the possessions of 
every household, to understand the awe 
with which Tommy Remington thought 
over the task he was about to undertake. 
Such a boy may have seen occasionally 
the queer picture-writing in front of a 
Chinese laundry or on the outside of 
packages of tea, and wondered what such 
funny marks could possibly mean. To 
Tommy English appeared no less queer 
and difficult than Chinese, and he would 
23 


Tommy' Remington' s Battle 

have attacked the latter with equal confi- 
dence — or, more correctly, with an equal 
lack of confidence. 

But he had little time to ponder over 
all this, for a few minutes’ walk brought 
him to the dingy cabin on the hillside 
which — with a similar dwelling back in 
the Pennsylvania coal-fields — was the 
only home he had ever known. His fa- 
ther had throvm away his youth in the 
Pennsylvania mines while the industry 
w'as yet almost in its infancy and the 
miners’ wages were twice or thrice those 
that could be earned by any other kind 
of manual labor — the high pay counter- 
balancing, in a way, the great danger 
which in those days was a part of coal- 
mining. Mr. Remington had, by good 
fortune, escaped the dangers, and had 
lived to see the importation of foreign 
laborers to the Pennsylvania fields, — 
Huns, Slavs, Poles, and what not, — who 
prospered on wages on which an Anglo- 
Saxon would starve. Besides, the dan- 
24 


The First Shot of the Battle 

gers of the work had been very materially 
reduced, and to the mine-owner it seemed 
only right that the wages should be re- 
duced with them, especially since compe- 
tition had become so close that profits 
were cut in half, or sometimes even wiped 
out altogether. 

It was just at the time when matters 
were at their worst that the great West 
Virginia coal-fields were discovered and 
a railroad built through the mountains. 
Good wages were offered experienced 
miners, and Mr. Remington was one of 
the first to move his family into the new 
region — into the very cabin, indeed, 
where he still lived, and which at that 
time had been just completed. The un- 
usual thickness of the seams of coal, their 
accessibility, and the ease with which the 
coal could be got to market, together with 
the purity and value of the coal itself, all 
combined to render it possible for the 
miner to make good wages, and for a 
time Remington prospered — as much, 
25 


Tommy' Remington’s Battle 

that is, as a coal-miner can ever prosper, 
which means merely that he can provide 
his family with shelter from the cold, 
with enough to eat, and with clothes to 
wear, and at the same time keep out of 
debt. But the discovery of new fields 
and the ever-growing competition for the 
market had gradually tended to decrease 
wages until they were again almost at the 
point where one man could not support a 
family, and his boys — mere children 
sometimes — went into the mines with 
him to assist in the struggle for exis- 
tence — the younger ones as drivers of 
the mine mules, which hauled the coal to 
“ daylight,” the older ones as laborers in 
the chambers where their fathers blasted 
it down from the great seams. 

Tommy mounted the steps of the cabin 
to the little porch in front, and paused 
for a backward glance down into the 
valley. The mountains had deepened 
from green to purple, and the eddying 
clouds of mist showed sharply against 
26 


The First Shot of the Battle 

this dark background. The river splashed 
merrily along, a ribbon of silver at the 
bottom of the valley. The kindly night 
had hidden all the marks of man’s handi- 
work along its banks, and the scene was 
wholly beautiful. Yet it was not at 
mountains or river that the boy looked. 
He had seen them every day for years, 
and they had ceased to be a novelty long 
since. He looked instead at a little 
white frame building just discernible 
through the gloom, and he thought with 
a strange stirring of his blood that it 
was perhaps in that building he was to 
learn to read and write. A shrill voice 
from the house startled him from his 
reverie. 

“ Tommy,” it called, ain’t you ever 
cornin’ in, or air you goin’ t’ stand there 
till jedgment? Come right in here an’ 
wash up an’ git ready fer supper. Where ’s 
your pa?” 

“ Yes ’m,” said Tommy, and hurried 
obediently into the house. ‘‘Pa went 
27 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

over t’ th’ store t’ git some bacon. He 
said he ’d be ’long in a minute.” 

Mrs. Remington sniffed contemptu- 
ously and banged a pan viciously down 
on the table. 

“A minute,” she repeated. “I guess 
so. Half an hour, most likely, ef he gits 
t’ talkin’ with thet shif’less gang thet ’s 
allers loafin’ round there.” 

Tommy deemed it best to make no 
reply to this remark, and in silence he 
took off his cap and jumper and threw 
them on a chair. Even in the semi- 
darkness it was easy to see that the 
house was not an inviting place. Perched 
high up on the side of the hill, it had 
been built by contract as cheaply as 
might be, and was one of a long row of 
houses of identical design which the 
Great Eastern Coal Company had con- 
structed as homes for its employees. 
Three rooms were all that were needed 
by any family, said the company — a 
kitchen and two bedrooms. More than 
28 


The First Shot of the Battle 

that would be a luxury for which the 
miners could have no possible use and 
which would only tend to spoil them. 
Perhaps the houses were clean when they 
were built, but the grime of the coal- 
fields had long since conquered them and 
reduced them to a uniform dinginess. 
Mrs. Remington had battled valiantly 
against the invader at first; but it was a 
losing fight, and she had finally given it 
up in despair. The dust was pervading, 
omnipresent, over everything. It was in 
the water, in the beds, in the food. It 
soaked clothing through and through. 
They lived in it, slept in it, ate it, drank 
it. Small wonder that, as the years 
passed, Mrs. Remington’s face lost what- 
ever of youth and freshness it had ever 
had, and that her voice grew harsh and 
her temper most uncertain. 

“ Now hurry up. Tommy,” she repeated. 
“ Wash your hands an’ face, an’ then fetch 
some water from th’ spring. There ain’t 
a drop in the bucket.” 

29 


Tommy Remington s Battle 

“All right, ma,” answered the boy, 
cheerfully. And he soon had his face 
and hands covered with lather. It was 
no slight task to cleanse the dust from 
the skin, for it seemed to creep into every 
crevice and to cling there with such tena- 
cious grip that it became almost a part of 
the skin itself. But at last the task was 
accomplished, as well as soap and water 
could accomplish it, and he picked up the 
bucket and started for the spring. 

The air was fresh and sweet, and he 
breathed it in with a relish somewhat 
unusual as he climbed the steep path up 
the mountain- side. He placed the bucket 
under the little stream of pure, limpid 
water that gushed from beneath a great 
ledge of rock, summer and winter, fed 
from some exhaustless reservoir within 
the mountain, and sat down to wait for it 
to fill. A cluster of lights along the river 
showed where the town stood, and he 
heard an engine puffing heavily up the 
grade, taking another train of coal to 
30 


The First Shot of the Battle 

the great Eastern market. Presently its 
headlight flashed into view, and he watched 
it until it plunged into the tunnel that in- 
tersected a spur of the mountain around 
which there had been no way found. 
What a place it must be, — the East, — and 
how many people must live there to use 
so much coal ! The bucket was full, and 
he picked it up and started back toward 
the house. As he neared it, he heard his 
mother clattering the supper-things about 
with quite unnecessary violence. 

“Your pa ain’t come home yit,” she 
cried, as Tommy entered. “ He don’t 
need t’ think we ’ll wait fer him all night. 
I ’ll send Johnny after him.” She went 
to the front door. “ John-zi?/ — o-o-o-oh, 
Johnny ! ” she called down the hillside. 

“ Yes ’m,” came back a faint answer. 

“ Come here right away,” she called 
again; and in a moment a little figure 
toddled up the steps. It was a boy of 
six — Tommy’s younger brother. All the 
others — brothers and sisters alike — lay 
31 


Tommy Remington^s Battle 

buried in a row back of the little church. 
They had found the battle of life too hard 
amid such surroundings, and had been 
soon defeated. 

“Where you been?” she asked, as he 
panted up, breathless. 

“ Me an’ Freddy Roberts found a 
snake,” he began, “ down there under 
some stones. He tried t’ git away, but 
we got him. I ’m awful hungry,” he 
added, as an afterthought. 

But his mother was not listening to 
him. She had caught the sound of ap- 
proaching footsteps down the path. 

“ Take him in an’ wash his hands an’ 
face. Tommy,” she said grimly. “Look 
at them clothes ! I hear your pa cornin’, 
so hurry up.” 

Johnny submitted gracefully to a scrub- 
bing with soap and water administered 
by his brother’s vigorous arm, and emerged 
an almost cherubic child so far as hands 
and face were concerned, but no amount 
of brushing could render his clothes pre- 
32 


The First Shot of the Battle 

sentable. His father came in a moment 
later, a little, dried-up man, whose spirit 
had been crushed and broken by a lifetime 
of labor in the mines — as what man’s 
would not? He grunted in reply to his 
wife’s shrill greeting, laid a piece of 
bacon on the table, and calmly proceeded 
with his ablutions, quite oblivious of the 
storm that circled about his head. Supper 
was soon on the table, a lamp, whose 
lighting had been deferred to the last 
moment for the sake of economy, was 
placed in the middle of the board, and 
Mrs. Remington, finding that her remarks 
upon his delay met with no response, sat 
down behind the steaming coffee-pot to 
show that she would wait no longer. 

Hard labor and mountain air are rare 
appetizers, and for a time they ate in 
silence. At last Johnny, having taken 
the edge off his hunger, began to relate 
the story of his thrilling encounter with 
the snake, and even his mother was be- 
trayed into a smile as she looked at his 
3 33 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

dancing eyes. Tommy, who had been 
vainly striving to muster up courage to 
broach the subject nearest his heart, saw 
his father’s face soften, and judged it a 
good time to begin. 

‘^‘Pa,” he remarked, “there ’s a circus 
cornin’, ain’t they?” 

“Yes,” said his father; “I see some 
bills down at the mine.” 

“When ’s it cornin’?” 

“ I don’t know. You kin ask somebody. 
Want t’ go?” 

Mrs. Remington snorted to show her 
disapproval of the proposed extravagance. 

“ Yo, it ain’t that,” answered Tommy, 
in a choked voice. “ I don’t keer a cent 
about th’ circus. Pa, I want t’ go t’ 
school.” 

Mr. Remington sat suddenly upright, as 
though something had stung him on the 
back, and rubbed his head in a bewildered 
way. His brother stared at Tommy, awe- 
struck. 

“ Go t’ school ! ” repeated his father, at 
34 


The First Shot of the Battle 

last, when he had conquered his amaze- 
ment sufficiently to speak. “ What on 
airth fer?” 

T’ learn how t’ read,” said Tommy, 
gathering courage from his father’s dis- 
may. “ Pa, I want t’ know how t’ read 
an’ write. Why, I can’t even read th’ 
show-bill ! ” 

“Well,” said his father, “neither 
kin I.” 

Tommy stopped a moment to consider 
his words, for he felt he was on delicate 
ground. In all his fourteen years of life, 
he had never been so desperate as at this 
moment. 

But his mother came unexpectedly to 
his rescue. 

“ Well, an’ if you can’t read, Silas,” she 
said sharply, “ is thet any reason th’ boy 
should n’t git a chance? Maybe he won’t 
hev t’ work in th’ mines ef he gits a little 
book-l’arnin’. Heaven knows, it ’s a hard 
life.” 

“Yes, it ’s a hard life,” assented the 
35 


Tommy Remington' s Battle 

miner, absently. “ It ’s a hard life. No- 
body knows thet better ’n me.” 

Tommy looked at his mother, his eyes 
bright with gratitude. 

I stopped at th’ school -house t’ git th’ 
teacher t’ read th’ bill t’ me,” he said, an’ 
she told me thet anybody kin learn t’ 
read — thet ’t ain’t hard at all. It ’s a 
free school, an’ it won’t cost nothin’ but 
fer my books. I ’ve got purty near three 
dollars in my bank. Thet ort t’ pay fer 
’em.” 

‘‘But who ’ll help me at th’ mine?” 
asked his father. “I ’ve got t’ hev a 
helper, an’ I can’t pay one out of th’ 
starvation wages th’ company gives us. 
What ’ll I do?” 

“ I tell you, pa,” said Tommy, eagerly. 
“ I kin help you in th’ afternoons, an’ all 
th’ time in th’ summer when they ain’t no 
school. I ’ll jest go in th’ mornin’s, an’ 
you kin keep on blastin’ till I git there t’ 
help y’ load. I know th’ boss won’t keer. 
Ivin I go? ” 


36 


The First Shot of the Battle 

His face was rosy with anticipation. 
His father looked at him doubtfully a 
moment. 

“ Of course you kin go,” broke in his 
mother, sharply. “ You ’ve said yourself, 
Silas, many a time,” she added to her 
husband, “ thet th’ minin’ business ’s git- 
tin’ worse an’ worse, an’ thet a man can’t 
make a livin’ at it any more. Th’ boy 
ort t’ hev a chance.” 

Tommy shot another grateful glance at 
his mother, and then looked back at his 
father. He knew that from him must 
come the final word. 

‘‘You kin try it,” said his father, at 
last. “ I reckon you ’ll soon git tired of 
it, anyway.” 

But Tommy was out of his chair before 
he could say more, and threw his arms 
about his neck. 

“ I ’m so glad ! ” he cried. “ You ’ll 
see how I ’ll work in th’ afternoons. 
We ’ll git out more coal ’n ever! ” 

“ Well, well,” protested Silas, awk- 
37 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

wardly returning his caress, “ we ’ll see. 
I don’t know but what your ma ’s right. 
You ’ve been a good boy, Tommy, an’ 
deserve a chance.” 

And mother and father alike looked 
after the boy with unaccustomed tender- 
ness as he ran out of the house and up 
the mountain- side to think it all over. 
Up there, with only the stars to see. Tom- 
my flung himself on the ground and 
sobbed aloud in sheer gladness of heart. 


38 


CHAPTEE III 


THE DAWNING OF A NEW DAY 

W HEN Bessie Andrews came within 
sight of the door of the little school- 
house next morning, she was surprised to 
see a boy sitting on the step; but as she 
drew nearer, she discovered it was her 
visitor of the evening before. He arose 
when he saw her coming and took off his 
cap. Cap and clothes alike showed evi- 
dence of work in the mines, but face and 
hands had been polished until they shone 
again. Her heart leaped as she recog- 
nized him, for she had hardly dared to 
hope that her talk with him would bear 
such immediate and splendid fruit. Per- 
haps this was only the beginning, she 
thought, and she hurried forward toward 
him, her face alight with pleasure. 

39 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

“ Good morning,” she said, holding out 
her hand. “Your father said yes? I ’m 
so glad ! ” 

He placed his hand in hers awkwardly. 
She could feel how rough and hard it was 
with labor — not a child’s hand at all. 

“ Yes ’m,” he answered shyly. “ Pa 
said I might try it.” 

“ Come in ” ; and she unlocked the 
door and opened it. “ Sit down there a 
minute till I take off my things.” 

He sat down obediently and watched 
her as she removed her hat and gloves. 
The clear morning light revealed to him 
how different she was from the women 
he had known — a difference which, had 
it been visible the evening before, might 
have kept him from her. His eyes dwelt 
upon the fresh outline of her face, the 
softness of her hair and its graceful wavi- 
ness, the daintiness of her gown, which 
alone would have proclaimed her not of 
the coal-fields, and he realized in a vague 
way how very far she was removed from 
40 



“she hubeied forward toward him, her face alight 

WITH PLEASURE.” 


* 



The Dawning of a New Dajr 

the people among whom he had always 
lived. 

“ Now first about the studies,” she said, 
sitting down near him. ‘‘Of course we 
shall have to begin at the very beginning, 
and for a time you will be in a class of 
children much younger than yourself. 
But you must n’t mind that. You won’t 
have to stay there long, for I know you 
are going to learn, and learn rapidly.” 

She noticed that he was fumbling in his 
pocket and seemed hesitating at what to 
say. 

“What is it?” she asked. 

“ I ’ll need some books, I guess,” he 
stammered. “ Pa ’s been givin’ me a 
quarter of a dollar every week fer a long 
time fer helpin’ him at th’ mine, an’ I ’ve 
got about three dollars saved up.” 

With a final wrench he produced from 
his pocket a little toy bank, with an open- 
ing in the chimney through which coins 
could be dropped inside, and held it toward 
her. 


43 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

“ Will that be enough ? ” he asked 
anxiously. 

The quick tears sprang to her eyes 
as she pressed the bank back into his 
hands. 

IS^o, no,” she protested. “ You won’t 
need any books at all at first, for I will 
write your lessons on the blackboard 
yonder. After that, I have plenty of 
books here that you can use. Keep the 
money, and we ’ll find a better way to 
spend it.” 

He looked at her doubtfully. 

“A better way?” he repeated, as 
though it seemed impossible there could 
be a better way. 

“ Yes. You ’ll see. You ’ll want 
something besides mere school-books 
before long. Put your bank in your 
pocket,” she added. “ Here come the other 
children.” 

He put it back reluctantly, and in a 
few minutes had made the acquaintance 
of the dozen children which were all that 


44 


The Dawning of a New Day 

Miss Andrews had been able to bring to- 
gether. Most of them belonged to the 
more important families of the neighbor- 
hood. Tommy, of course, had never be- 
fore associated with them, and he felt 
strangely awkward and embarrassed in 
their presence. He reflected inwardly, 
however, that he could undoubtedly whip 
the biggest boy in the crowd in fair fight; 
but all the reassurance that came from 
his physical strength was presently taken 
out of him when he heard some of them, 
much younger than himself, reading with 
more or less glibness from their books. 

He himself had his first struggle with 
the alphabet, and before the hour ended 
had mastered some dozen letters. He re- 
joiced when he learned that there were 
only twenty-six, but his heart fell again 
when he found that each of them had 
two forms, a written and a printed form, 
and that there were two variations of each 
form, capitals and small letters. Between 
these he was, as yet, unable to trace any 
45 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

resemblance or connection; but he kept 
manfully at work, attacking each new 
letter much as a great general attacks 
each division of the enemy’s army, until 
he has overcome them all. And it is safe 
to say that no general ever felt a greater 
joy in his conquests. 

It is not an easy thing for a boy totally 
unused to study to undertake a task 
like this, and more than once he found 
his attention wandering from the board 
before him, where the various letters 
were set down. He wondered how his 
father was getting along at the mine 
without him; he caught himself gazing 
through the window at the cows on the 
hillside opposite; he had an impulse to 
run to the door and watch the New York 
express whirl by. The hum of the chil- 
dren about him, reciting to the teacher or 
conning their lessons at their desks, set 
his head to nodding; but he sat erect 
again heroically, rubbed his eyes, and 
went back to his task. The teacher was 


46 


The Dawning of a New Day 

watching him, and smiled to herself with 
pleasure at this sign of his earnestness. 

I think the greatest lesson he learned 
that morning — the lesson, indeed, which 
it is the end of all education to teach — 
was the value of concentration, of keep- 
ing his mind on the work in hand. The 
power he had not yet acquired, of course, 
— very few people, and they only great 
ones, ever do acquire it completely, — yet 
he made a long stride forward, and when 
at last noon came and school was dis- 
missed, he started homeward with the 
feeling that he had won a victory. 

That afternoon, as he worked beside 
his father in the mine, loading the loosened 
coal into the little cars, and pushing them 
down the chamber to be hauled away, he 
kept repeating the letters to himself, and 
from time to time he took from his pocket 
the soiled circus poster, and holding it up 
before his flickering lamp, picked out 
upon it the letters that he knew, to make 
certain he had not forgotten them. His 
47 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

father watched him curiously, but made 
no comment, being somewhat out of 
humor from having to work alone all the 
morning. Yet this passed in time, for 
Tommy labored with such purpose and 
good will that when the whistle blew 
their output was very nearly as large as 
it ever was. 

After supper that evening. Tommy hur- 
ried forth to the hillside, and flinging 
himself face downward on the ground, 
spread out the bill before him and went 
over and over it again so long as the light 
enabled him to distinguish one letter 
from another, until he was quite certain 
he could never forget them. 

At the end of a very few days he knew 
his alphabet, but, to his dismay, he found 
this was only the first and very easiest 
step toward learning to read. Those 
twenty- six letters were capable of an in- 
finite number of combinations, and each 
combination meant a different thing. It 
was with a real exultation he conquered 
48 



“he picked out the letters he knew, to make certain he 

HAD NOT FORGOTTEN THEM.” 


4 


*4 , 


. L 



« 





•I- 

i 



- h 













The Dawning of a New Day 

the easiest forms, — cat ” and “ dog ” 
and “ ax ” and boy,” — and after that 
his progress was more rapid. 

It is always the first steps which are 
the most difficult, and as the weeks passed 
he was regularly promoted from one class 
to another. The great secret of his suc- 
cess lay in the fact that he did not put 
his lessons from him and forget all about 
them the moment the school door closed 
behind him, but kept at least one of his 
books with him always. His mother even 
went to the unprecedented extravagance 
of keeping a lamp burning in the evening 
that he might study by it, and hour after 
hour sat thei^e with hun, sewing or knit- 
ting, and glancing proudly from time to 
time at his bowed head. They were the 
only ones awake, for husband and younger 
child always went to bed early, the one 
worn out by the day’s work, the other by 
the day’s play. 

To Tommy those days and evenings 
were each crowded with wonders. He 


51 


Tommy Remington' s Battle 

learned not only that the letters may be 
combined into words, but that the ten 
figures may be combined into niunbers. 
The figures, indeed, admitted of even 
more wonderful combinations, for they 
could be added and subtracted and multi- 
plied and divided one by another, some- 
thing that could not be done with letters 
at all, which seemed to him a very singu- 
lar thing. 

The first triumph came one evening 
when, after questioning his father as to 
the amount of coal he had mined that day 
and the price he was paid for each ton of 
it, he succeeded in demonstrating how 
much money he had earned, reaching 
exactly the same result that his father 
had reached by means of some intricate 
method of reckoning understood only by 
himself. It was no small triumph, for 
from that moment his father began dimly 
to perceive that all of this book-learning 
might one day be useful. So when winter 
and spring had passed, and the time drew 
52 


The Dawning of a New Day 

near for dismissing the school for the 
summer, Tommy could not only read 
fairly well and write a little, but could 
do simple sums in addition and subtrac- 
tion, and knew his multiplication-table as 
high as seven. Small wonder his mother 
looked at him proudly, and that even his 
father was a little in awe of him! 

It was about a week before the end of the 
term that Miss Andrews called him to her. 

“You remember. Tommy,” she asked, 
“that I told you we would use your 
money for something better than buying 
mere school-books?” 

“ Yes, ma’am,” he said; “ I remember.” 

“ Well, bring me one dollar of it, and I 
will show you what I meant when I told 
you that.” 

So the next day he placed the money in 
her hands, and a few days later she called 
him again. 

“I have something for you,” she said, 
and picked up a package that was lying 
on her desk. “ Unwrap it.” 

53 


Tommy Remington' s Battle 

He took off the paper with trembling 
fingers, and found there were four books 
within. 

“ They are yours,” she said. “ They 
were bought with your money, and you 
are to read them this summer. This one 
is ‘Ivanhoe,’ and was written by a very 
famous man named Sir Walter Scott; 
this is ^ David Copperfield,’ and was 
written by Charles Dickens; this is 
‘Henry Esmond,’ and was written by 
William Makepeace Thackeray; and this 
last one is ‘Lorna Doone,’ by Richard 
Doddridge Blackmore. They are among 
the greatest stories that have ever been 
written in the English language, and I 
want you to read them over and over. 
You may not understand quite all of them 
at first, but I think you will after a time. 
If there is anything you find you cannot 
understand, go to Mr. Bayliss at the 
church, and ask him about it. He has 
told me that he will be glad to help 
you.” 


54 


The Dawning of a New Day 

Tommy tied up his treasures again, too 
overcome by their munificence to speak, 
and when he started for home that noon, 
he was holding them close against his 
breast. 

Miss Andrews looked after him as he 
went, and wondered, for the hundredth 
time, if the books she had given him had 
been the wisest selection. His first youth 
was past, she had reasoned, and he must 
make the most of what remained. So she 
had finally decided upon these four master- 
pieces. She sighed as she turned away 
from the door, perhaps with envy at 
thought of the rare delights which lay 
before him in the wonderful countries he 
was about to enter. 


55 


CHAPTER IV 


TOMMY ROAMS IN AN ENCHANTED LAND 

AND what delights they were, when 
once he found time to taste of them ! 
He was kept busy at his studies until 
school closed, as it did one Friday in early 
June, and that afternoon he said good- 
by to his teacher and saw her whisked 
away eastward to the home she loved. 
He went from the station to the mine 
with heavy heart, and labored there with 
his father until evening came. He did 
not open his books that night, for he was 
just beginning to realize all that his 
teacher had been to him and how he had 
come to rely upon her for encourage- 
ment and help. All day Saturday he 
worked in the mine with his father. But 
56 


Tommy Roams in an Enchanted Land 

Sunday dawned clear and bright, and as 
soon as he had eaten his breakfast, he 
climbed high up on the hillside to his 
favorite nook, with only “ Lorna Doone ” 
for company. There, in a grassy spot, 
he lay down and opened the book before 
him. 

He read it stumblingly and haltingly; 
as his teacher had foreseen, many of the 
words were quite beyond him ; but it was 
written in English so pure, so clear, so 
simple, that little of importance escaped 
him. And what a world of enchantment 
it opened to him! — the wide moorlands 
of Exmoor, the narrow Doone valley, the 
water- slide, the great London road. And 
what people, too! — the lawless Doones, 
Captain, Counselor, Carver, who, for all 
their villainy, had something attractive 
about them, Lorna, and great John Ridd. 
Of course he did not see the full beauty 
of the book, but its magic he caught some 
glimpses of, and it bore him quite away 
from the eventless valley of New River 
57 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

to that other valley where the Doones 
reigned in all their insolence and pride, 
and kept Lorna prisoner to be a bride to 
Carver. 

Hunger warned him of the dinner-hour, 
but he begrudged the time it took to go 
down to the house, swallow his food, and 
get back again to his place on the hill- 
side. The afternoon passed almost be- 
fore he knew it, and the lengthening 
shadows warned him that evening was at 
hand. Still he read on, glancing up only 
now and then to mark how the light was 
fading, and when it failed altogether it 
left John just in the midst of his adven- 
tures in London. Tommy lay for a long 
time looking down the valley and think- 
ing over what he had read, and at last, 
with a sigh, picked up the book and 
started homeward. 

What need to detail further? All 
summer long he walked in a land of en- 
chantment, whether with John Ridd on 
Exmoor, with David Copper field in Lon- 
58 


Tommy Roams in an Enchanted Land 

don, with Richard Lion-heart in Sherw ood 
Forest, or with Henry Esmond at Castle- 
wood. As he went onward he grew 
stronger in his reading, and so found the 
way less difficult, and at last acquired 
such proficiency that he would read por- 
tions of his books aloud to his wondering 
parents and to Johnny. 

Mr. Bayliss found them sitting so one 
Sunday afternoon, and paused at the 
porch to listen. Tommy was reading of 
that last desperate struggle between John 
Ridd and Carver Doone : 

black bog had him by the feetj the 
sucking of the ground drew on him like the 
thirsty lips of death. In our fury, we had 
heeded neither wet nor dry, nor thought of 
earth beneath us. I myself might scarcely leap, 
with the last spring of overlabored legs, from 
the engulfing grave of slime. He fell back 
with his swarthy breast (from which my gripe 
had rent all clothing) like a hummock of bog- 
oak standing out the quagmire ; and then he 
tossed his arms to heaven, and they were black 
to the elbow, and the glare of his eyes was 
59 


Tommy' Remington’ s Battle 

ghastly. I could only gaze and pant, for my 
strength was no more than an infant’s, from the 
fury and the horror. Scarcely could I turn 
away, while, joint by joint, he sank from sight.” 

For an instant there was silence. Then, 
with a sigh, Tommy’s father relaxed his 
attitude of strained attention and dropped 
back in his chair. 

“ J ee-rusalem ! ” he said at last. “ Ter 
think of it! Th’ bog swallered him up. 
Good fer him ! He ort t’ got worse ’n 
thet fer killin’ Lorna.” 

Tommy smiled to himself, in his supe- 
rior knowledge. 

That ain’t all,” he said. There ’s 
another chapter.” 

“ Another chapter 1 ” cried his father. 
‘‘Maybe Lorna ain’t dead, then. It ’ll 
tell about her funeral, anyway. Go on. 
Tommy.” 

And as Tommy turned to the book 
again, Mr. Bayliss stole away down the 
path, convinced that this was not the 
time to make his presence known. On 
60 


Tommy' Roams in an Enchanted Land 

his homeward way he pondered deeply 
the scene he had just witnessed. Its sig- 
nificance moved him strongly, for he saw 
a ray of hope ahead for the success of his 
ministry among this people. Five years 
before, when he was a senior at the Prince- 
ton Theological Seminary, he had chanced 
upon an open letter in a mission maga- 
zine which stated that for miles and miles 
along this valley there was not a single 
minister nor church, and that hundreds of 
people, from year-end to year-end, never 
heard the Word of God. He had decided 
that this should be his field of labor, and 
so soon as he had been ordained he had 
journeyed to Wentworth. At first he had 
held services in an old cabin; gradually 
he succeeded in interesting charitable peo- 
ple in his work, and finally secured enough 
money to build a small church, and to 
purchase and consecrate a piece of ground 
behind it for a burying-place. 

But in matters of religion, as in matters 
of education, he had found the people 
61 


To m my Rem ingto n 's Ba ttle 

strangely apathetic. They came to him 
to be married, and sent for him sometimes 
in sickness ; it was he who committed their 
bodies to the grave: but marriages and 
deaths aside, he had small part in their 
lives. He had thought sometimes that 
the reason of failure must be some fault in 
himself, and had his moments of discour- 
agement, as all men have; but the scene 
he had just witnessed gave him a clue to 
one cause of failure. He saw that some 
degree of education must come before 
there could be deep and genuine spiritual 
awakening. He had realized the truth of 
this more than once in his ministry, but 
most deeply shortly after his arrival, when 
he had undertaken to distribute some 
Bibles among the squalid cabins on the 
hillside. 

“We-uns don’t need no Bible,” said 
the woman in the first house he entered. 

“ Do not need one ? ” he echoed. 
“Why? Have you one in the house 
already?” 


62 


Tommy Roams in an Enchanted Land 

“No, we ain’t got none. What could 
we-uns do with one?” 

“ Do with it? Read it, of course.” 

“ But we can’t read,” said the woman, 
sullenly. “ They ain’t no chance t’ learn. 
It ’s work, work, from sun-up t’ dark.” 

Mr. Bayliss stood for a moment non- 
plussed. 

“ N ot read ! ” he repeated at last. “ But, 
surely, some of the miners or their families 
can read.” 

The woman shook her head. 

“Not many,” she said. “How kin we?” 
she continued, more fiercely. “ What 
chance d’ we hev? We ain’t knowed no- 
thin’ but work all our lives. A man don’t 
stop t’ learn t’ read when he needs bread 
t’ eat.” 

She paused to look darkly at her visitor. 
He was so moved with pity and distress 
that he could find no answer. Perhaps 
she read his thought in his eyes, for she 
grew more gentle. 

“ Thet ’s one reason we-uns don’t come 


63 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

down t’ them meetin’s o’ yoiirn,” she went 
on. th’ time Sunday comes, we ’re 

too tired t’ care fer anything but rest. 
And then,” she added defiantly, “ most of 
us has got so we don’t care, noway.” 

Mr. Bayliss went back to his study 
with his Bibles still under his arm. He 
felt that he was just beginning to under- 
stand the problem which confronted him, 
and he had sought vainly for a solution 
to it. Since the miners could not read, 
he had visited such of them as would per- 
mit him and had read to them, but they 
had received him for the most part with 
indifference. He had labored patiently, 
though sometimes despairingly. And 
now, of a sudden, after these years, he 
saw a glimmering of light. It was only 
a miner’s boy reading to his parents — a 
little thing, perhaps, yet even little things 
sometimes lead to great ones. And the 
minister determined to do all he could for 
that boy, that he might serve as a guide 
to others. 


64 


Tommy Roams in an Enchanted Land 

He found he could do much. He 
helped the boy over difficult places in his 
books, gave him a dictionary that he 
might find out for himself the meaning 
of the words, and taught him how to use 
it. Gradually, as he came to know him 
better, the project, which at first had been 
very vague, began to take shape in his 
mind. Why should not this boy become 
a helper to his own people? Who could 
understand them and minister to them as 
one who had sprung from among them? 
But of this he said nothing to any one, 
only pondered it more and more. 

It was quite a different Tommy from 
the one she had known that Miss Andrews 
found awaiting her when she returned 
in September to open her school again. 
His eyes had a new light in them. It 
was as if a wide, dreary landscape had 
been suddenly touched and glorified by 
the sun. On his face, now, glowed the 
sunlight of intelligence and understand- 


Toimivy Remington^ s Battle 

ing — a light which deep acquaintance 
with the books Tommy had been reading 
will bring to any face. She had a talk 
with him the very first day. 

“And you liked the books?” she asked. 

His sparkling eyes gave answer. 

“Which hero did you like the best?” 

“Oh, John Ridd,” he cried. “John 
Ridd best of all. He was so big, so 
strong, so brave, so — ” 

He paused, at loss for a word. 

“ So steadfast,” she said, helping him, 
“ so honest, so good, so true. Yes, I think 
I like him best, too — better than David 
or Ivanhoe oi* Henry Esmond. And now. 
Tommy,” she continued, more seriously, 
“I want you to do something for me — 
something I am sure you can do, and 
which will help me very much.” 

“ Oh, if I could ! ” he cried, with bright 
face. 

“ I am sure you can. How many chil- 
dren do you suppose there are in that row 
of houses where you live?” 

66 


Tommy Roams in an Enchanted Land 

He stopped for a moment to compute 
them. 

“ About twenty-five,” he said at last. 

“And how many of them come to 
school?” 

“None of them but me.” 

“Don’t you think they ought to come? 
Are n’t you glad that you came?” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” cried Tommy. 

“Well, I have tried to get them to 
come, and failed,” she said. “Perhaps I 
did n’t know the right way to approach 
them. Now I want you to try. I believe 
you will know better how to reach them 
than I did. You may fail, too, but at 
least you can try.” 

“ I will try,” he said, and that evening 
he visited all the cabins in the row, one 
after another. What arts he used was 
never known — what subtleties of flattery 
and promise. He met with much dis- 
couragement; for instance, he could get 
none of the men to consent to send to 
school any of the boys who were old 
67 


Tominj Remington's Battle 

enough to help them in the mines. But 
when he started to school next morning, 
six small children accompanied him, 
among them his brother Johnny. And 
what a welcome the teacher gave him! 
She seemed unable to speak for a mo- 
ment, and her eyes gleamed queerly, but 
when she did speak, it was with words 
that sent a curious warmth to his heart. 

That half-dozen children was only the 
first instalment to come from the cabins. 
Tommy, prizing above everything his 
teacher’s gratitude, kept resolutely at 
work, and soon the benches at the school- 
room began to assume quite a different 
appearance from that they had had at the 
opening of school; and one day when 
Jabez Smith came down to look the school 
over, he declared that it would soon be 
necessary to put in some new forms. 

“And you were gittin’ discouraged,” 
he said, half jestingly, to Miss Andrews. 
“ Did n’t I tell you t’ stick to it an’ you ’d 
win? ” 


68 


Tommy Roams in an Enchanted Land 

“ Oh, but it was n’t I who won ! ” she 
cried. And in a few words she told him 
the story of Tommy’s missionary work, 
and of his connection with the school. 

“ Which is th’ boy? ” he asked quickly, 
when the story was finished, and she 
pointed out Tommy where he sat bending 
over his book. 

Mr. Smith looked at him for some mo- 
ments without speaking. 

‘‘ There must be somethin’ in th’ boy. 
Miss Bessie,” he said at last. We must 
do somethin’ fer him. When you ’re 
ready, let me know. Mebbe I kin help.” 
And he went out hastily, before she could 
answer him. 

But the words sang through her brain. 
“ Do something for him ” — of course 
they must do something for him; but 
what? The question did not long remain 
unanswered. 

It was when she met Mr. Bayliss one 
Sunday in a walk along the river, and 
related to him the success of Tommy’s 
69 


Tomniy Remington's Battle 

efforts, that he broached the project he 
had been developing. 

“ The boy must be given a chance,” he 
said. I believe he could do a great 
work among these people — greater, 
surely, than I have been able to do.” 
And he sighed as he thought of his years 
of effort and of the empty seats which 
confronted him at every service. “ See 
how he has helped yon. ^^ow he must 
help me.” 

“But how?” she asked. And old 
Jabez Smith’s promise again recurred to 
her. 

“ I have n’t thought it out fully, but in 
outline it is something like this. We 
will teach him here all that we can 
teach. Then we ’ll send him to the pre- 
paratory school at Lawrenceville for the 
final touches. Then he will enter Prince- 
ton, and — if his bent lies as I believe it 
does — the seminary. Think what he 
could do, coming back here equipped as 
such a course would equip him, and hav- 
ing, too, a perfect understanding of the 
70 


Tommj^ Roams in an Enchanted Land 

peculiar people he is to work among! 
Why, I tell you, it would almost work a 
miracle from one end of this valley to the 
other.” And he paused to contemplate 
for a moment this golden-hued picture 
which his words had conjured up. 

His companion caught the glow of his 
enthusiasm. 

“ It would,” she cried ; “ it would ! But 
can he take such a polish? Is he strong 
enough? Is it not too late? ” 

“ I believe he is strong enough. I be- 
lieve it is not too late. The only trouble,” 
he added reflectively, ‘‘ will be about the 
cost.” 

‘'The cost?” 

“Yes. There will be no question of 
that after he gets to Princeton, for I can 
easily get him a scholarship, and there 
are many ways in which a student can 
earn money enough to pay his other ex- 
penses. But at Lawrenceville it is dif- 
ferent.” 

Miss Andrews looked up at him with 
dancing eyes. 


71 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

‘‘ About what will the expense at Law- 
rence ville be? ” she asked. 

He paused a moment to consider. 

“ Say three hundred dollars a year. I 
think I can arrange for it not to cost 
more than that, if I can get him one of 
the Foundation Scholarships, as I am cer- 
tain I can.” 

And the course? ” 

Is four years — but we may be able 
to cut it down to three. Let us count on 
three.” 

“ ISTine hundred dollars,” she said, half 
to herself. Then of a sudden, “ Mr Bay- 
liss, I believe I can provide the money.” 

“ You ! ” he cried in astonishment. 

“ Oh, not I myself,” she laughed. “ One 
of my friends. I will talk it over with 
him.” 

He looked at her, still more astonished. 

“Talk it over?” he repeated. “Do 
you mean to say that we have a philan- 
thropist in our midst? ” 

She nodded. 


72 


Tonnnj Roams in an Enchanted Land 

“But I shall not tell you his name,” 
she said, her eyes alight. “ J^Tot just yet, 
at any rate. Let us get on to other par- 
ticulars. I see another rock ahead in the 
person of his father. Do you think he 
will consent? ” 

“ I had thought of that,” answered the 
minister, slowly. “ That will be another 
great difficulty. But I believe he will 
consent if we go about it carefully. He 
is beginning to take a certain pride in 
the boy, — so is the mother, — and I shall 
appeal to that. It is worth trying.” 

“ Yes, it is worth trying,” she repeated, 
“ and we will try.” 

Tommy, who lay in his favorite spot 
high up on the mountain, reading for the 
tenth time of John Ridd’s fight for Lorna, 
saw them walking together along the river 
path. He watched them pacing slowly 
back and forth, deep in converse, but he 
had no thought that they were planning 
his life for him. 


73 


CHAPTER V 

JABEZ SMITH MAKES A BUSINESS 
PROPOSITION 

one is fired with an idea, the 
wisest thing is to work it out im- 
mediately, and Miss Andrews lost no time 
in carrying through her part of the bar- 
gain. She knew Jabez Smith’s habits 
from a year’s observation, and that even- 
ing, after supper, she hunted him out 
where he sat on the back porch of the 
house, reflectively smoking his pipe. His 
preference for the back porch over the 
front porch was one of his peculiarities. 
From the front porch one could see the 
whole sweep of the valley, with its ever- 
changing beauties of light and shade. 
From the back one, nothing was visible 
74 


A Business Proposition 

but the imminent hillside mounting steeply 
upward. 

To be sure, if one leaned forward in his 
chair, a glimpse might be had of the 
mouth of a coal-mine high up on the hill- 
side, and his sister said that it was to 
look at this that Jabez sat on the back 
porch. It seemed likely enough, for it 
was from that drift that he had drawn 
enough money to make his remaining 
years comfortable. Jabez Smith had come 
into these mountains while they were yet 
a wilderness, unknown, or almost so, to 
white men, save where the highroads 
crossed them scores of miles apart. What 
circumstance had driven him from his 
home near Philadelphia was never known, 
but certain it was that he had plunged 
alone into the mountains, and battled 
through them until he had reached the 
New River valley. Caprice, or perhaps 
the beauty of the place, moved him to 
make his home here. He bought two 
hundred acres of land for half as many 
75 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

dollars, built himself a rude log cabin, 
and settled down, apparently to spend 
the remainder of his life in solitude. 

Then came the discovery of the great 
beds of coal, and the building of the rail- 
road through this very valley. His two 
hundred acres jumped in value to a thou- 
sand times what he had paid for them, 
and when the Great Eastern Coal Com- 
pany was organized to develop the mines, 
he sold to them all of the land except a 
few acres which he reserved for his home. 
There he had built a comfortable house, 
and had sent for his widowed sister to 
come and live with him. He gradually 
grew to be something of a power in the 
place, and had been postmaster ever since 
an office had been established there. It 
was he who had secured money for the 
erection of the school-house, and he had 
been the only local contributor to Mr. 
Bayliss’s church. Still, he was a peculiar 
man, and bore the reputation of being 
harsh. Women said that was because he 


76 


A Business Proposition 

had never married. Men wondered why, 
with all his wealth, he should be content 
to spend his life in this humdrum and 
unattractive place. But he seemed to pay 
no heed to all these comments. He 
formed habits of peculiar regularity, and 
one of these was, as has been already 
said, to sit on the back porch after supper 
and smoke an evening pipe. 

It was there he was that Sunday even- 
ing, and he turned as he heard steps on 
the porch behind him. 

^^Ah, Miss Bessie, good evenin’,” he 
said cordially. Won’t y’ take a cheer?” 
And he waved his hand toward a little low 
rocker that stood in one corner. “ I hope y’ 
don’t object t’ terbaccer,” he added, as she 
brought the chair forward and sat down. 

“Do you suppose I should have come 
here to disturb you if I did?” she retorted 
laughingly. “I want you to keep on 
smoking. I know a man is always more 
inclined to grant a favor when he ’s 
smoking.” 


77 


Tommj Remington's Battle 

He glanced at her quickly, with just a 
trace of suspicion in his eyes, and moved 
uneasily in his chair. 

“What ’s th’ favor?” .he asked. 

“You remember I was telling you the 
other day about Tommy Remington,” she 
began, “ and you said something must be 
done for the boy, and that you wished to 
help.” 

“ ’T was n’t exactly thet,” he corrected, 
smiling in spite of himself, “ but thet ’ll 
do.” 

“ Well, we have a plan,” she continued, 
“ a good plan, I believe ” ; and she told 
him of her talk with Mr. Bayliss. 

He sat silent for a long time after she 
had finished, smoking slowly, and looking 
at the hillside. 

“ I dnnno,” he said at last. “ I dunno. 
It ’s a re sky thing t’ send a boy out thet 
way. But mebbe it ’ll turn out all right. 
As I understan’, it ’ll take nine hunderd 
dollars t’ put it through.” 

“ Nine hundred,” she nodded. 

78 


A Business Proposition 

He took a long whiff and watched the 
smoke as it circled slowly upward. 

N ine hnnderd,” he repeated. “ Thet ’s 
a lot o’ money — a good bit o’ money. 
I ’m afeard I ain’t got thet much t’ give 
away, Miss Bessie. I don’ believe in 
givin’ people money, anyways.” 

He glanced at her and saw how her 
face changed. Her voice was trembling 
a little when she spoke. 

Very well, Mr. Smith,” she said. “ Of 
course it is a lot of money. I had no 
right to ask you.” And she rose to go. 
“I ’ll tell Mr. Bayliss, and w^e will find 
some other plan.” 

“ Set down ! ” he interrupted, almost 
roughly. Set down, an’ wait till I git 
through.” 

She sat down again, looking at him 
with astonishment not unmixed with fear. 

^^ow,” he continued, I said I did n’t 
hev thet much money t’ give away, but 
thet ain’t sayin’ I ain’t got it t’ loan. 
'Now I ’m a business man. I don’ believe 


79 


Tommy’ Remington’s Battle 

in fosterin’ porpers. If this yere Tommy 
o’ yourn shows he ’s got th’ stuff in him 
t’ make a scholar, an’ you git his father t’ 
consent t’ his goin’ away, I ’ll tell you 
what I ’ll do, jest as a business proposi- 
tion. I ’ll loan him three hunderd dol- 
lars at five per cent., t’ be paid back when 
he earns it. Thet ’ll pay fer one year, 
an’ I reckon I kin make th’ same propo- 
sition when th’ second an’ third years 
come round, pervided, of course, th’ boy 
turns out th’ way you expect. Ef ’t 
takes four years, why, all right.” 

He stopped to get his pipe going again, 
and his hearer started from her chair with 
glistening eyes. 

‘‘Oh, Mr. Smith,” she began, but he 
waved her back. 

“ Set down, can’t yer? ” he cried, more 
fiercely than ever; and she sank back 
again, beginning at last to understand 
something of this man. “ I ain’t through 
yet. When you git ready fer the money, 
you come t’ me an’ I ’ll make out th’ 
80 


A Business Proposition 

note. You kin take it t’ him an’ let 
him sign it. But I don’ want no polly- 
foxin’ ronn’ me. I won’t stan’ it. You 
tell th’ boy t’ keep away from me, an’ don’ 
you let anybody else know about it, er I 
won’t loan him a cent.” 

She sat looking at him, her lips trem- 
bling. 

“ Now you mind,” he repeated severely, 
shaking his pipe at her, but not daring 
to meet her eyes. “ I won’t have no fool- 
in’. Promise you ’ll keep this t’ your- 
self.” 

She was laughing now, her eyes bright 
with unshed tears. 

“ I promise,” she cried. “ But oh, Mr. 
Smith, you can’t prevent my thinking, 
though you may prevent my talking. Do 
you want to know what I think of what 
you ’ve done?” 

He shook a threatening finger, but she 
was bending over him and looking down 
into his eyes. 

“ ^^o, you can’t frighten me ! I ’m not 
6 81 


Toinmj Remington's Battle 

in the least afraid of you, for I think 
you ’re a dear, dear, dear!'^’’ 

He half started from his chair, but she 
turned and fled into the house, casting 
one sparkling glance over her shoulder as 
she went. He sank back into his seat 
with a face quite the reverse of angry, 
and started up his pipe again, and as he 
gazed out at the hillside he was tasting 
one of the great sweetnesses of life. 

That evening, at the close of the service 
in the little church. Miss Andrews waited 
for the minister, to tell him her good 
news. 

“And who is this Good Samaritan?” 
he asked, when she had finished. “It 
may be business, as he says, but it ’s 
rather queer business, it seems to me, to 
lend a boy nine hundred dollars, with no 
security but his own, and with an indefi- 
nite time in which to repay it. What 
could have persuaded him to do it?” 

“ Well,” she said thoughtfully, “he saw 
the boy.” 


82 


A Business Proposition 

“And the boy had you to plead his 
cause,” he added, smiling at her. “Come, 
I ’ll not ask you again who this mysteri- 
ous benefactor is. Perhaps I suspect. I 
think I ’ve had some dealings with him 
myself.” 

“I knew it!” she cried, clapping her 
hands in her excitement. “I knew this 
was not the first time, the moment he 
began to talk harshly to me. Oh, you 
should have heard him!” 

“ I have heard him,” he laughed. “ Yes, 
and felt him, too.” 

“ Tell me.” 

He shook his head. 

“ He would not like it. Besides, I 
promised not to.” 

“ But you will mention no names,” she 
protested. “You will not tell me who he 
is. Surely, he could not object to that!” 

“I fear that is a dangerous subtlety,” 
he said, smiling; “but it can do no harm, 
since you already know.” 

Here is the story — with a few details 
83 


Tommy RemingtoiT s Battle 

about himself which the minister somehow 
neglected to give. 

Three years before, there had been a strike 
in the mines of the Great Eastern Coal 
Company. What caused it is no matter 
now — some grievance, real or fancied, on 
the part of the miners. They had de- 
manded redress, the company had refused 
to make any change in the existing order 
of things, and, in consequence, one morn- 
ing, when the whistle blew, not a single 
man answered it, and the mines were shut 
down. 

For a time things went much as usual 
ill New River valley. The miners sat in 
front of their houses smoking, or gathered 
in little groups here and there to talk over 
the situation. But by degrees the appear- 
ance of contentment disappeared. None 
of the men had saved much money; many 
had none at all; still more were already 
in debt at the company store — they had 
got into the habit of exceeding their earn- 
84 


A Business Proposition 

ings there, of receiving, at the end of 
every month, instead of a pay envelope, a 
snake statement,” with a zigzag line 
drawn from indebtedness to credit given. 
Further credit at the store was refused, 
and it was whispered about that the com- 
pany meant to starve them into subjec- 
tion. The faces of the men began to 
show an ominous scowl; the groups be- 
came larger and the talk took on a mena- 
cing tone. The reporters who had hur- 
ried to the scene telegraphed their papers 
that there would soon be trouble in the 
New River valley. 

During all this time Mr. Bayliss had 
worked unceasingly to bring the strike to 
an end. He had labored with the officials 
of the company, and with the men. Both 
sides were obdurate. The men threatened 
violence; the company responded that in 
the event of violence it would call on the 
law to protect its property, and that the 
muskets of the troops would be loaded 
with ball. In the meantime the wives 
85 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

and children of the miners had no food, 
and things were growing desperate. 

Just when matters were at their worst, 
a strange thing happened. One of the 
miners one morning found a sack of flour 
on his doorstep; another found a side of 
bacon; a third a basket of potatoes; a 
fourth, a measure of meal. Whence the 
gifts came no one knew ; and no one tried 
to probe the mystery, for it was whispered 
about that it was bad luck to try to dis- 
cover the giver, since he evidently wished 
to remain unknown. Word of all this 
came, of course, to Mr. Bayliss, and he 
wondered like the rest. 

He was called, one night, to a cabin on 
the mountain-side, where a miner’s wife 
lay ill. It was not till long past midnight 
that she dropped asleep, and after com- 
forting the husband and children as well 
as lay in his power, he left the cabin and 
started homeward. It was a clear, starlit 
night in late October, and he lingered on 
the way to breathe in the sweet, fresh 
86 


A Business Proposition 

fragrance of the woods — a pleasant con- 
trast to the close cabin he had just left. 
As he paused for a moment to look along 
the valley, and wonder anew at its beauty, 
he heard footsteps mounting the path 
toward him, and glancing down, he saw 
a man approaching apparently carrying a 
heavy load. Wondering who it could be 
abroad at this hour, he stood where he 
was and awaited the stranger’s approach. 
But he did not come directly to him. He 
turned up a path which led to a cabin, and 
the watcher saw him place a bundle on 
the doorstep. With leaping heart, he 
understood. It was the man who had 
been saving the miners’ families from 
starvation. 

His pulse was beating strangely as he 
saw the man return to the main path and 
again mount toward him. As he came 
opposite him, the minister stepped out of 
the shadow. 

My friend,” he said gently. 

The stranger started as though detected 
87 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

in the commission of some crime, dropped 
the sacks he was carrying, and sprang 
upon the other. 

“ What d’ y’ mean? ” he cried hoarsely, 
clutching him fiercely by the shoulders. 
“ Spyin’, was y’ ? ” 

The minister smiled into his face, de- 
spite the pain his rough clasp caused him. 

‘‘No, I was not spying, Mr. Smith,” he 
said. “I came this way quite by acci- 
dent. But I thank God for the accident 
that has made you known to me.” 

Jabez Smith dropped his hands. 

“ The preacher ! ” he muttered, and 
looked at him shamefacedly. “ Promise 
me you ’ll fergit about this, Mr. Bayliss.” 

“ How can I promise what I can never 
do?” asked the other, with a smile. “I 
shall remember it night and morning in 
my prayers.” 

“At least,” said Jabez, imploringly, 
“promise me you ’ll tell nobody, sir. If 
y’ do tell,” he added fiercely, “ it ’ll stop 
right here ! ” 


88 


A Business Proposition 

The minister smiled at him through a 
mist of tears. 

“I ’ll promise to tell no one, Mr. Smith,” 
he said. 

“ That ’ll do,” growled Jabez. “ Good 
night.” And he turned to pick up his 
bundles. 

“ Nay,” said the minister, quickly, “ not 
yet. Let me help you. That is too 
heavy a load for one man, however light 
his heart may be.” And he stooped and 
picked up two of the sacks. 

The other grumbled a little, but saw it 
was of no use to protest, and they toiled up 
the hill together. At last every one of 
the bundles had been left behind, and 
they turned homeward. 

“ Mr. Smith,” began the minister, softly, 
“ I can’t tell you how my heart has been 
moved to-night.” 

Stop ! ” cried the other. “ Stop ! I 
won’t have it ! ” 

‘‘ At least, let me ease you of this night 
toil,” persisted the minister. You must 
89 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

not tax your strength like this, night after 
night. I can guess what joy it gives 
yon, but yon will kill yourself, or at best 
bring on serious illness.” 

The other shook his head and walked 
on in silence. 

But I may help yon as I have to- 
night,” the minister pleaded. Let me do 
that. I should love to do it. I take no 
credit to myself, but I should love to 
do it.” 

It was only after much persuasion that 
Jabez consented even to this. But con- 
sent he did, finally, and every night after 
that they went forth together on theii- 
errand of mercy, until at last miners and 
mine-owners reached a compromise and 
the strike ended. Since then, other cases of 
great need had been helped in the same 
way — only worthy cases, though, and in 
no instance had he helped the lazy or wil- 
fully idle. A man who would not work, 
declared Jabez, sternly, deserved to starve. 


90 


A Business Pj^oposition 

When Miss Andrews that evening ran up 
the steps which led to the door of the 
Smith homestead, her lips still quivering 
from the story she had heard, she caught 
a glimpse of the owner. It was only a 
glimpse, for when he saw her coming he 
dived hastily indoors. 


91 


CHAPTER VI 


MISS ANDREWS ACCEPTS AN INVITATION 



IFE in River valley, full of toil 


■JL J as it was, full of the stern, trying 
struggle for existence, had still its mo- 
ments of relaxation, and in these, as she 
came to know the people better, the little 
schoolmistress was summoned to take 
a part — first in the church “socials,” 
which Mr. Bayliss organized from time to 
time in his unceasing efforts to bring the 
people within his doors and to get nearer 
to them; then at the informal little gath- 
erings which took place at the homes of 
the wealthier families in the long winter 
evenings. Wealth is only a comparative 
term, and a man considered wealthy in 
the coal-fields may still be close to pov- 


92 


Miss Andrews Accepts an Incitation 

erty; but most of them were honest and 
hospitable and open-hearted, and the 
lonely girl found many friends among 
them. 

And they, when they saw her so thor- 
oughly in earnest, regarded her with an 
admiration and respect which grew grad- 
ually to affection. To the men, roughened 
by labor in the mines and by year-long 
contact with the unlovely side of life, this 
delicate and gentle girl was singularly 
attractive, and their voices instinctively 
took a softer tone than usual when they 
spoke to her. To the women she was a 
revelation of neatness and refinement, and 
any suspicion or envy with which they 
may have regarded her at first was soon 
forgotten when they found her so eager 
to help them in every way she could, so 
free from guile and selfishness, so willing 
to give them of her best. Gradually, a 
keen observer might have noted, the 
hats of the women and girls of her ac- 
quaintance became less gaudy ; gradually 
93 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

dresses of flaming greens and yellows 
disappeared ; slowly certain rudiments of 
good taste began to be apparent. Of all 
the battles Bessie Andrews waged — and 
they numbered many more than may be 
set down in this short history — this one 
against the liking for garish things in 
dress was not the least heroic, requiring 
such patience, tact, and gentle resolution 
as few possess. 

It was at a little party one evening at 
the home of George Lambert, superin- 
tendent of one of the larger mines, that 
her host swung suddenly around upon 
her with a proposition which for a mo- 
ment took her breath away. 

You ’ve been here nearly a year now. 
Miss Bessie,” he began, and you ’ve 
seen about everything the valley ’s got to 
show. You ’ve been on top of Old 
:N'ob — ” 

“ Oh, yes ; Mr. Bayliss and two of the 
boys took me up there last spring.” 

And you ’ve been down to the falls? ” 
94 


Miss Andrews Accepts an Invitation 

‘‘Yes; we had a picnic there, you 
know.” 

“But there ’s one place you haye n’t 
been.” 

“ And where is that, Mr. Lambert? ” 

“ That ’s back in our mine.” 

For a moment she did not answer, and 
Mrs. Lambert laughed a little as she 
looked at her. 

“ That ’s a great honor. Miss Bessie,” 
she said. “ George is very particular 
about whom he asks to go through the 
mine. He thinks it ’s the loveliest place 
on earth.” 

Still she hesitated. It was one of the 
things she had longed yet feared to do. 
She had sometimes thought it was her 
duty to go, that she could not hope 
to wholly understand this people unless 
she saw them at their daily toil. But the 
black openings yawning here and there 
in the mountain-side frightened her ; they 
called into life weird imaginings ; it 
seemed so terrible to v/alk back into 


95 


Tommy Remington' s Battle 

them, away from the air and the sun- 
light. 

“ Why,” laughed Lambert, reading her 
thoughts in her face, “ to look at yon one 
would think you could never hope to get 
out alive! There has n’t been an acci- 
dent — a really bad accident — in our 
mine for over eight years. It ’s perfectly 
safe or I would n’t ask you to go. A 
coal-mine is a mighty interesting thing 
to see. Miss Bessie.” 

There was something so encouraging 
in his eyes and voice, so reassuring in his 
confidence, that her fears slipped from her. 

Of course it is interesting,” she said, 
“ and thank you for the invitation, sir. I 
shall be very glad to go.” 

“And how about you, Mr. Bayliss?” 
asked Lambert. 

“ Why, yes ; I should like to go, too. 
I ’ve been through the mine three or four 
times, but it has a great fascination for 
me.” 

“ That ’s good. Suppose we say Satur- 
96 


Miss Andrews Accepts an Invitation 

day morning. Will that suit you, Miss 
Bessie? ” 

‘‘ It will suit me very well, sir,” an- 
swered the girl, a little faintly, remem- 
bering that Saturday was only two days 
away. 

All right; Mr. Bayliss and I will stop 
for you. And say — there ’s one thing; 
you want to w^ar the oldest dress you Ve 
got — a short skirt, you know.” 

Very well,” she smiled. “ I think I 
have a gown that will answer.” 

Whatever misgivings she may have ex- 
perienced in the meantime, they were not 
apparent on her face when she came out 
to meet the two men bright and early 
that Saturday morning. 

“ That ’s the stuff ! ” said Lambert, 
looking approvingly at her natty costume 
of waterproof. “ That ’s just the thing.” 

“ Yes ; I think this will defy even a coal- 
mine,” she answered, laughing. It has 
withstood a good many mountain storms, 
I know.” 


7 


97 


Tommy' Remington' s Battle 

“ Well, if you ’re ready we are,” said 
Lambert, and set off along the railroad 
track that led to the big tipple. 

“ And you ’re going to tell me every- 
thing about it? ” she asked. 

“ Of course ; that ’s what I ’m for. Mr. 
Bayliss maybe ’ll help me a little if I get 
hoarse,” he added slyly. 

^^ot I! ” cried that gentleman. “ In 
the science of coal-mining I am still in 
the infant class. I ’ll let you do the talk- 
ing, Mr. Lambert, and will be very glad 
to listen myself.” 

Lambert strode on, chuckling to him- 
self. He was certainly qualified, if any 
one was, to tell her “ everything.” He 
had made the mine a study and life-work, 
and regarded it with pride and affection. 
Every foot of its many passages was as 
familiar to him as those of his own home. 
The men knew that with him in charge 
the mine was as safe as skill and care 
could make it ; in hours of trouble, which 
were certain to come at times, his clear 
98 


Miss Andrews Accepts an Invitation 

eyes and cheery voice, his quick wit and 
indomitable will, were mighty rocks of 
refuge to cling to and lean against until 
the storm was past. As he walked along 
beside them this bright morning, alert, 
head erect, his two companions glanced 
admiringly at him more than once, know- 
ing him for a man who did things worth 
doing. 

Well,” he said at last, as they reached 
the great wooden structure stretching 
above the track, “here we are at the tip- 
ple, and we might as well begin here, 
though it ’s sort of beginning at the 
wrong end. Let ’s go up to the top first, 
though,” and he led the way up a steep 
little stair. “Now, Miss Bessie, we have 
come to the first lesson in the book. The 
coal is let down from the mine on that in- 
clined railway to this big building, which 
is built out over the railroad track so 
the coal can be dumped right into the 
cars without any extra handling. The 
coal, as it comes down, is in all sizes, 
99 


LcfC. 


Tommy Remington^ s Battle 

called ‘run of mine’ — big lumps and 
little, and a lot of dirt. So it is dumped 
out here on this screen, — the bars are an 
inch and a half apart, you see, — and all 
the coal that passes over it to that bin 
yonder is called ‘lump.’ The coal that 
goes through falls on that other screen 
down there, with bars three quarters of 
au inch apart, and all that passes over it 
is called ‘nut.’ All that falls through is 
called ‘slack,’ and is hauled away to those 
big piles you see all around here. Un- 
derstand all that?” 

“ Oh, yes; that ’s as clear as it can be.” 

“ That ’s good. N^ow we ’ll go up to 
the mine. Let ’s get into this empty car. 
It ’s not as clean as a Pullman, nor as 
big, but it ’s the only kind we run on 
this road.” 

They helped her in, and one sat on 
either side to steady her, as the tipple- 
hands coupled it to the cable and the 
trip up the steep grade began. 

“ You see, the loaded cars going down 
100 


Miss Andrews Accepts an Invitation 

pull up the empty ones,” he said. “We 
make gravitation do all the work. It ’s 
a simple way, and mighty convenient.” 

The loaded car, heaped high with coal, 
passed them midway, and in a moment 
they were at the mouth of the mine. To 
her surprise, she saw that there were two 
openings, one much smaller than the other. 

“ That smaller one ’s the airway,” 
said Lambert. “Just inside there ’s a 
big wheel, or fan, made very much like 
the wheel of a windmill, going around 
about a hundred times a minute, and 
blowing about a thousand cubic feet of 
air out of the mine at every revolution.” 

“ Out of the mine ! ” exclaimed Miss 
Andrews. 

“Yes. The airway is connected with 
the gangway there, away back at the 
farthest limit of the mine. So what 
happens?” 

He was smiling down at her, relishing 
intensely this novel chance to test the 
wits of the school-teacher. 

101 


T 0 in iivy Rein i ngto n \s Ba ttle 

“ Why,” she began slowly, “ if so 
much air is pumped out, just so much 
more must rush in to take its place 
through the other opening.” 

The gangway — yes. And since the 
only open break-through between them is 
away at the other end of the mine?” 

The fresh air must go cleai- through 
the mine before it can start out again.” 

That ’s it — that ’s it exactly ! ” and 
Lambert slapped his thigh with pleasure at 
her quickness. That ’s the whole secret. 
Miss Bessie, of ventilating coal-mines : get 
your fresh air, and plenty of it, clear back 
to the end, through every chamber, before 
it starts out again. So long as you do that, 
there ’s mighty little danger from fire-damp 
and choke-damp, or any of the other gases 
the coal is always throwing off.” 

But it is n’t always so simple as this, 
is it ? ” 

“ 1^0. You see, there are three ways of 
opening a coal-mine. Miss Bessie, of which 
this is the very simplest. The river, there, 
102 


Miss Andrews Accepts an Invitation 

has cut down through the seams of coal 
and left them exposed, so all we have to 
do is to hunt up those most favorably 
located and work right back into them. 
That sort of entrance is called a drift, and 
is the cheapest as well as simplest, because 
every blow of the pick brings down so 
much coal. That ’s the great advantage 
of all the mines along this river — along 
almost any river, for that matter. Some- 
times the seams don’t come to the surface, 
and then we have to tunnel in horizontally 
through earth and rock to reach them ; 
that ’s the second way. The third way is 
where the coal is buried deep in the earth, 
and a vertical opening called a shaft has 
to be sunk to it, and the gangways started 
out horizontally from the shaft-foot. That 
is the most expensive way of all, and the 
most difficult. This main entrance is called 
the gangway or entry, and the side work- 
ings from it are called butt entries. Well, 
let ’s go in.” 

Just inside the entrance a boy sup- 
103 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

plied them with little smoking tin lamps 
with hooks to hold them to their hats, 
and then the trip into the mine began. 
The darkness that fell upon them almost 
instantly appalled the girl for a moment. 
She felt that every step forward must 
carry her down into a bottomless abyss. 
She clutched nervously at her com- 
panions ; but the feeling passed, and soon 
she was able to advance with greater 
confidence. The gangway seemed quite 
level, though Lambert told her it sloped 
upward slightly so as to throw out all the 
water that gathered in the mine, and 
along either side of it ran a narrow 
wooden track. On one track the loaded 
cars were brought out of the mine, and 
on the other the empty cars were taken 
back again. Mules furnished the motive 
power, and each of them was driven by a 
grimy boy. The sight of them going 
ceaselessly back and forth aroused the 
old bitterness in her. 

“ I think it is such a terrible thing,” 
104 


Miss Andrews Accepts an Invitation 

she said, ‘‘ that children have to work in 
the mines ! ” 

‘‘ It ’s not pleasant,” assented her 
guide, grimly, but it ’s a case of bread 
and butter — and mighty little butter. 
They ’re not in any danger, though,” 
he added, “ except from being kicked 
or bitten by the mules. Some of them 
are vicious brutes, but the boys soon 
learn how to handle ’em.” 

The rattle of an approaching “ trip ” of 
cars drowned his voice, and they stepped 
aside to let it pass. For a moment they 
could see nothing; then the mule flashed 
into view, with a boy lying flat on its 
back to escape the roof, the flame of 
his lamp streaming thinly out behind; 
then four loaded cars, rocking and sway- 
ing on the narrow track. 

“You see, the slope of the gangway 
helps get the loaded cars to daylight,” ob- 
served Lambert, “ as well as throw out 
the water — and there ’s lots of water 
in a mine.” 


105 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

That was evident enough. Every- 
where about them the black walls were 
dripping with moisture, and every angle 
shone bright in the rays of their lamps. 
From low roof and sides alike gleamed 
thousands of scintillating points, until 
it seemed almost that they must be in 
a mine of diamonds. Along the center 
of the gangway a row of heavy props 
had been placed to support the roof and 
render it quite safe. As they went on, 
Bessie Andrews began to think it all 
some dreadful illusion. Mules loomed 
up suddenly before her; swarthy faces, 
with no apparent bodies, gleamed for an 
instant out of the darkness; a constant 
rumble of cars was in her ears ; the lamps 
sputtered and flared in the strong air- 
current, and seemed each instant about to 
go out and leave them in darkness — such 
a darkness as exists nowhere else. On 
they went, — miles, as it seemed to her, 
but really only a few hundred yards, — 
and came at last to a door, beside which 
106 


Miss Andrews Accepts an Invitation 

a small boy sat. He jumped up and 
opened it for them, and they passed 
through. For a moment they walked 
on between two narrow walls which 
opened suddenly before them. 

Now we are in a chamber,” said her 
guide. “ Here we will see the miners at 
work.” 

Far ahead she could see dimly four 
lights bobbing about in a seemingly 
senseless way. Suddenly three of them 
came toward her; she heard somewhere 
in the distance the cry of “Fire!” re- 
peated over and over. The three lights 
disappeared; the fourth drew rapidly 
near, then disappeared also. She felt 
Lambert catch her by the arm to steady 
her; there was a sudden beating of the 
air against her face, the dull rumble of an 
explosion, the crash of falling coal, and 
then a moment’s breathless silence. 


107 


CHAPTER VII 

THE GOOD world! 

“ TT was only a blast,” said Lambert, 
JL smiling down into the white face his 
flickering lamp disclosed to him. “ Let us 
go up to the face of the room and see it.” 

The four lights ahead had reappeared 
again and were bobbing about dis- 
tractedly, and as they went forward 
toward them through a cloud of acrid 
smoke, she saw two men rapidly filling a 
mine car, while the other two were busy 
setting a new prop under the roof. These 
last two were the master-miners, her guide 
told her, and she watched them with in- 
terest while they set a post of hard wood 
upright and secured it in place by driving 
a broad wedge between it and the roof. 

108 


The Good World! 


“ That big wedge gives the post more 
purchase on the roof, you know,” Lambert 
explained. “ See, the car is full ; it holds 
a little over a ton.” 

The two laborers pushed it down the 
track to the foot of the chamber, where a 
driver-boy would pick it up on his next 
trip out. 

Every car has a tag on it to show 
which room it comes from,” went on the 
superintendent, “ and when it gets outside, 
the coal is weighed and credited to the 
men who mined it. The men usually 
work in pairs, — butties, they call them, — 
and each man has a helper whom he has 
to pay out of his earnings. That ’s the 
reason so many of the men make their 
boys work for them.” 

The props needed to support the roof 
were set, the coal brought down by the 
blast cleared out of the way, the dirt and 
debris scraped to one side, and the two 
miners looked carefully over the wall of 
coal before them and held a little consul- 


109 


Tommy Remington'* s Battle 

tation. Then one of them removed his 
lamp from his cap and lay down on his 
side, and with a sharp pick began to cut 
in the coal a deep horizontal groove about 
a foot above the floor. The other miner 
lighted him at his work, and when he 
grew tired, as he soon did because of the 
strained position, changed places with him. 

“We might as well go,” said Lambert, 
at last. “ There won’t be anything more 
to see here for a good while. They ’ve 
got to cut that groove about two feet 
deep all the way across the face before 
they can begin blasting again. You see, 
the bottom layer of coal is slaty, and the 
powder needed to blast it out would break 
the good coal above it into little bits. So 
they take out the good coal first. That ’s 
just one of the tricks of the trade — 
there ’s a thousand more.” 

He was busy guiding her safely down 
the chamber, and Mr. Bayliss, left to his 
own devices, suddenly found himself 
stumbling wildly over the high caps in 
110 


The Good World! 


which the wooden rails of the track were 
laid. Lambert rescued him, laughing, 
and they reached the foot of the room 
just in time to see a driver-boy bring in 
his mule, hitch it to the loaded car, pull it 
out to the main track, and attach it to his 
trip. The door closed behind them in- 
stantly as they went out. 

“ What is the door for? ” asked Miss 
Andrews. 

“ To keep the air-current from going 
along that entry. If it was n’t closed, 
the current would take a short cut through 
there back to the airway, and the rooms 
farther on would n’t get any. The door 
shuts off the in-current, and so the air 
does n’t get to those rooms over there till 
it ’s on its way out.” 

“And how many of these rooms are 
there? ” 

“We ’re working about thirty now.” 

“ With four men in each one? ” 

“Yes; there ’s nearly a hundred and 
fifty men and boys at work. We ’ve 
111 


Tommj' Remington* s Battle 

worked out about a hundred rooms to the 
right, here, drawn back the ribs, and closed 
them up.” 

“ ^ Drawn back the ribs ’? ” 

“Yes; you see, when the rooms are 
first opened we have to leave pillars 
about twelve feet thick between them to 
hold up the roof. Well, when the seam 
has been worked out to the limit, or as 
far as we can go profitably from the main 
entry, we take out these pillars, too, 
before we close up the working. That ’s 
called ‘ drawing back the ribs.’ ” 

“ But you said the pillars were needed 
to hold up the roof.” 

“ They are.” 

“ Then when you take them out does n’t 
the roof fall? ” 

“ It does sometimes,” said Lambert, 
grimly, “ but we do the work as quickly 
and carefully as we can, and put in a lot 
of extra posts. It ’s dangerous, I admit, 
but it has to be done, or there would n’t 
be much profit in coal-mining. You see, 
Miss Bessie, our rooms are only twenty- 
112 


The Good World! 


one feet wide — that ’s as wide as it ’s safe 
to make them. Well, if we leave walls 
twelve feet thick between them, we lose 
over one third of the coal in the mine. 
And remember that every ton of this last 
third can be got out without any addi- 
tional initial expense — for gangways, 
tracks, tipple, and so on, you know. We 
can’t afford to waste all that; if we did, 
we ’d lose our profit and would have to 
shut up shop.” 

She did not answer, but walked along 
beside him, deep in thought. It seemed 
such a savage irony that men must risk 
their lives in order to render the business 
profitable ! 

“ There is the opening into the old part 
of the mine,” said Lambert, pointing to a 
tight door upon which 


FIKE! 


had been painted in great flaming letters. 
8 113 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

“ Does that mean there ’s a fire in 
there?” she asked. 

“Well,” said her guide, “there is n’t 
any fire there now, but there probably 
would be — and a big explosion, too — 
if anybody went through there with a 
lighted lamp. We blow the place out 
every once in a while, — the law compels 
us to, — but in those old workings the 
fire-damp collects pretty fast.” 

“ I ’ve heard stories about fire-damp 
ever since I ’ve been old enough to read 
the newspapers,” she said. “ What is it, 
Mr. Lambert?” 

“ The chemists call it light carbureted 
hydrogen ; most people know it as ‘ marsh- 
gas,’ because you can see it bubbling up 
whenever you stir the water of a marsh ; 
but the miner calls it ^ fire-damp.’ There ’s 
a lot of it in coal, especially soft coal, and 
after every blast more or less of it is re- 
leased. If the air-current is good, this 
is blown away before it can do any harm. 
If the ventilation is bad, the gas collects 
114 


The Good World! 


gradually at the top of a room. Pretty 
soon it will get low enough to touch the 
flame in one of the lamps, and then usu- 
ally there is a big explosion which wrecks 
all that part of the mine. If there is n’t 
enough of it to explode, it catches fire 
and rolls back and forth across the roof, 
and if the miners are n’t burnt to death, 
they ’re pretty likely to be suffocated by 
the after-damp.” 

“ That ’s another word.” 

^‘Yes; after-damp or choke-damp is 
only the miner’s word for the carbonic- 
acid gas generated by the combustion of 
fire-damp. It is heavier than atmospheric 
air, and so settles at once to the floor of 
the room. Two breaths of it will cause 
death, and the miner who has thrown 
himself on the floor to protect himself 
from the fire has n’t much chance unless 
he gets up and out pretty quickly.” 

Miss Andrews drew a long breath of 
dismay. 

And is that all?” she asked at last. 


115 


Tommy' Remington’s Battle 

“ Oh, no ” ; and the superintendent 
laughed at her tone. There are other 
kinds. There is white-damp, more deadly 
than either of the others, but much less 
common; and even coal-dust itself forms 
a very violent explosive under certain 
conditions. The one great protection 
against them all is perfect ventilation — 
only mighty few things are perfect in this 
world, and mine ventilation is n’t one of 
them. But here I ’m yawping away like 
a man on a lecture platform ; are n’t you 
getting tired of listening?” 

“^^o, indeed!” she answered warmly, 
and they went on along other entries, into 
other rooms. Everywhere the same nerve- 
straining, muscle-tearing toil was in prog- 
ress; blast followed blast; the coal was 
carried away, out to daylight — the first 
daylight it had ever seen; everywhere 
was the rumble of the cars, the shouts of 
the driver-boys. 

So you have been through a coal- 
mine,” said her guide, when he had 
116 


The Good World! 


brought them at last back to the en- 
trance. There ’s not many women in 
this great country can say as much. And 
now I ’ll have to leave you — Mr. Bayliss 
is a pretty fair guide for the open air. 
Will you ride down?” 

‘‘No, thank you,” she said. “We ’d 
prefer to walk, I think. And sometime 
I ’ll thank you properly for your kind- 
ness ; just now I ’m too dazed, too 
astonished by it all, to think clearly.” 

“ That ’s all right,” he said, laughing. 
“ I ’ll bet I enjoyed it more than you did ” ; 
and waving his hand to them, he turned 
back into the mine. 

They went slowly down the path along 
the mountain-side, breathing in deep 
drafts of the pure, sweet air, looking 
about with new delight on the beauties 
of hill and valley. 

“Oh, Mr. Bayliss,” she burst out at 
last, “I never before quite realized what 
a good, beautiful world it is ! ” 

“No,” he answered, smiling at her 
117 


Tommy Remington s Battle 

emotion and understanding it ; “I think it 
would do most of us good to spend an 
hour in a coal-mine now and then, if only 
for the joy of coming out.” 

But to stay there ! ” she said, with a 
little shudder. To labor there day after 
day — it is too horrible ! ” 

It is horrible,” he assented, quite 
grave now. “Yet it is difficult to see 
how it can be avoided. The world needs 
coal, just as it needs iron and lead and 
silver and many other things which must 
be dug up out of its depths.” 

“ But the world is so selfish ! ” 

“Yes; it certainly rewards very poorly 
the men who do this labor for it. Yet I 
think that in a few more years mining 
will be no more dangerous than any other 
manual labor. Every year, almost, some 
new step is taken to lessen its dangers, 
and I believe I shall live to see the time 
when every mine will be lighted from end 
to end with electricity, and the hardest 
part of the work will be done by steam, 
or compressed air, or some other power.” 

118 


The Good World! 


“Let us hope so, at least,” she said 
fervently, “ and in the meantime — ” 

“Yes?” 

“ And in the meantime do all that 
we can to make up for the world’s 
selfishness.” 

“Yes — by being patient and helpful; 
that is just what you have been here. I 
have seen it and rejoiced in it. Miss 
Andrews.” 

She looked away from him with a little 
gesture of protest, but he did not heed 
her. 

“ And I know,” he went on, “ that you 
can understand something of the feeling 
and purpose that kept me here for those 
four years before you came; you know 
I had practically no success at all till 
then.” 

“ Oh, yes, you had ! ” she cried. “ You 
had done so much ! I think the field was 
ready.” 

“For instance,” he went on quietly, 
“ I should never have found Tommy 
Eemington.” 


119 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

did not find him — he came to me 
of his own accord.” 

“I had been here four years, but he 
never thought of coming to me. And 
no doubt there are many others who will 
come, as time goes on — though, I fancy, 
few quite like him. I have great hopes 
for him.” 

‘‘Yes — I know; and so have I. And 
I am sure we are not going to be disap- 
pointed — ” 

“Since Jabez Smith has made the way 
so smooth for us.” 

“ What a splendid man he is ! ” she 
cried. “Who would have thought that 
here — in this place — ” 

She looked about her at the sordid de- 
tails of the scene, — the grimy cabins, the 
piles of slack, — and left the sentence un- 
completed. But she had proved for her- 
self one great and hopeful truth — that 
no corner of the world is so small or mean 
but that love and helpfulness may be 
found there. 


120 


CHAPTER VIII 


GOOD-BY TO NEW RIVER VALLEY 

T he passing days dulled somewhat 
her memory of the terrors of the 
mine, and brought her to a truer view of 
it than had been possible in those first 
moments. After all, she reflected, there 
is none of the great, strenuous occupa- 
tions of life which has not its peculiar 
dangers. The sailor, the engineer, the 
builder, the fireman — each must look 
death boldly in the face at times, and 
each, no doubt, comes strengthened out 
of the hour of trial. To the miner that 
daily journey into the darkness becomes 
one of life’s commonplaces, and is in no 
way nerve-disturbing — just as the mas- 
ter-builder will walk calmly and unhesi- 
121 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

tatingly across a narrow beam high in 
air, where another man would falter and 
grow sick. 

And then the work, warm under her 
hand, was growing ever more absorbing, 
for the task of building up Tommy’s edu- 
cation had begun in earnest. In this she 
found the minister a devoted helper. 
How carefully the boy’s studies were 
mapped out between them! They did 
not tell him the whole plan, but only so 
much of it as would serve to give him 
ambition to get on, without appalling him 
at the work which lay before him. It 
was not an easy thing to compress into 
one year the studies which ordinarily 
must have taken four or five, but the boy 
developed a great willingness and capa- 
city for work, and if there were times 
when his teachers despaired, there were 
others when the way seemed bright be- 
fore them. I think they both took plea- 
sure in watching his growth and develop- 
ment from week to week, — almost, indeed, 
122 


Good-bjr to New River Valley 

from day to day, — in noting the birth 
of new thoughts and the power of grasp- 
ing new ideas. To cultured minds there 
is no occupation more delightful, so 
the devoted labor of this man and woman 
was not wholly without reward. But at 
last such progress had been made that 
Mr. Remington’s consent must be obtained 
before they could venture on further 
steps. 

Mr. Bayliss went about the task one 
Sunday afternoon, as the only time he 
could find the boy’s father at home and 
not wholly worn out with fatigue. He 
approached the cabin with great inward 
misgiving, but with determination to win 
if it were possible to do so. He found 
the family, as he had found it once before, 
listening to Tommy’s reading, only this 
time the reader proceeded with much 
greater fiuency. He stopped as Mr. Bay- 
liss knocked, and welcoming him warmly, 
placed a chair for him. The minister 
greeted the other members of the family, 
123 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

and plunged at once into his business, 
before his courage should fail him. 

You enjoy your son’s reading a great 
deal, do you not? ” he asked. 

^^Ya-as,” assented the miner, slowly. 
“ It ’s a great thing. I hed no idee there 
was such books in th’ world.” 

There are thousands of them.” And 
the minister smiled. “]S^ot all, perhaps, 
quite so good and worthy as the ones you 
have been reading, but many of more 
direct value. There are books that tell 
about the sciences — about the stars and 
the earth and the flowers, and about ani- 
mals and man. There are books that tell 
about the different countries of the earth, 
written by men who have traveled through 
all these countries. There are others 
that tell the history of the earth and of 
all the peoples that have ever lived on it, 
so far as it is known. There are •hun- 
dreds which tell of the lives of great men 
— of kings and emperors and great gen- 
erals and statesmen; yes, and of the men 
124 


Good-by to New Rwei^ Valley 

who have written the great books. Many 
of these are written in the English lan- 
guage, but there are many, too, in Latin 
and Greek, and French, and Italian, and 
German, and Spanish, which are no less 
valuable.” 

The miner and his wife sat staring with 
starting eyes at the speaker. 

“ But — but nobody ever read ’em all ! ” 
gasped the latter. 

“ Certainly no one man ever read them 
all.” And the minister smiled again. 
“ But any man may read and understand 
a great part of the best of them. Tommy 
might, if he had the chance.” 

Tommy sat suddenly bolt upright in 
his chair, and the blood flew to his face. 

“Th’ chance?” repeated his mother, 
slowly. “ What d’ you mean by th’ 
chance, Mr. Bayliss?” 

I mean that after he had learned all 
that Miss Andrews and I could teach 
him, he would have to go away for a time 
to study — to Princeton, say, where I 
125 


Tommj Remington's Battle 

went, where there are men who devote 
their whole lives to teaching.” 

Mr. Remington stirred impatiently in 
his chair. 

‘‘What fer?” he demanded. “ S’pose 
he could read all th’ books in th’ world, 
what good ’d it do him? ” 

The minister perceived that there was 
only one argument which would be un- 
derstood — the utilitarian one, the one of 
dollars and cents, of earning a living. 

“ When a man has learned certain 
things,” he explained, “ he can teach them 
to others. A man who can teach things 
well can always command a good posi- 
tion. It would rescue your son from the 
mines, and, I believe, would make him 
better and happier.” 

The miner sat for a moment, turning 
this over in his mind. 

“Mebbe ’t would, an’ then ag’in meb- 
be ’t would n’t,” he said at last. “ Any- 
way,” he added, with an air of finality, 
“ it ain’t t’ be thort of. How kin I pay 
126 


Good-hy to New Rwer Valley 

fer him t’ go away t’ school? It must 
cost a heap o’ money. Why, I can’t 
hardly keep my fambly in bread an’ meat 
an’ clothes.” 

It was the objection the minister had 
been waiting for, and he seized upon it 
eagerly. 

“We ’ll provide for all that, Mr. Rem- 
ington,” he said. “ It sha’n’t cost you a 
cent. Of course I know the struggle 
you have to get along — that every miner 
has. But every big college has hundreds 
of scholarships for deserving young men, 
and there are many ways in which the 
students can make money enough to pay 
all their expenses.” 

He glanced at Tommy, and saw that 
his lips were trembling. Mrs. Remington 
was nervously clasping and unclasping 
her hands. Even her husband was more 
moved than he cared to show. 

“ I ’m not going to press you for a de- 
cision now,” added the minister. “ It ’s 
too grave a question to decide hastily. 

127 


Tommy RemingtoiTs Battle 

Yet, if you consider your son’s welfare, 
I don’t see how you can decide against 
him. Send him to me to-morrow with 
your decision. It will be a great thing 
for him if he can go,” he concluded, and 
took his leave. 

There was silence for a few minutes in 
the little room. Mrs. Remington con- 
tinued knitting her fingers together, while 
her husband stared moodily through the 
window at the visitor’s retreating form. 
Tommy sat glued to his chair, hopeful 
and despairing by tui*ns, not daring to 
speak. 1^0 such momentous crisis had 
ever before appeared in his life. 

“Well, Silas,” said his mother, at last, 
“ it ’s like th’ preacher says. It ’s a great 
chance fer th’ boy. He would n’t be 
a-takin’ all this trouble ef he did n’t think 
th’ boy was worth it.” 

The miner turned slowly away from the 
window and glanced at her and then at 
their son. 

“Would y’like t’go,Tommy?” he asked. 

128 


Good-by to New Rwer Valley 

There was a tone in his voice which 
told that the battle was already won. The 
boy recognized its meaning in an instant. 

“ Oh, father ! ” he cried, and his arms 
were about his neck. 

“ All right. Tommy,” he said, in a voice 
not very steady. “I ’m not th’ man t’ 
stand in my boy’s light. Mebbe ef I ’d 
hed a chance like this when I was a boy, 
I could ’a’ give you a show myself. But 
I can’t.” 

The mother hastily brushed away a tear 
that was trickling down her wrinkled 
cheek. 

“ Come here. Tommy,” she said, and 
when she had him in her arms: “Your pa 
ain’t hed much chance, thet ’s so,” she 
said, “ but he ’s done th’ best he could, 
an’ he ’s been a good man t’ me. Don’t 
y’ fergit thet, an’ don’t y’ ever be ashamed 
o’ your pa.” 

“ You hush, mother,” protested her hus- 
band; but there was a tenderness in his 
voice which made the command almost a 
9 129 


Tomraj Remington’s Battle 

caress. After all, not even the slavery of 
the mines can kill love in the heart, so it 
be pure and honest, and that little moun- 
tain cabin was a shrine that afternoon. 

Bright and early the next morning. 
Tommy, with shining face, took the good 
news to the minister, and together they 
rejoiced at it, as did Miss Andrews when 
she heard. Then work began with new 
earnestness. Both of them recognized 
the fact that no education could be sound 
which was not firmly grounded on the 
rudiments, the “ three R’s,” so they con- 
fined themselves to these foundation- 
stones, and builded them as strongly as 
they could. There was no more question 
of working in the mine in the afternoon. 
His father labored there without a helper, 
doing two men’s work, blasting down the 
coal and then loading it on the cars — at 
what a sacrifice no one unacquainted with 
the mines can understand. For there is a 
great social gulf between the miner and 
the laborer: each has his certain work to 


130 


Good-bj to New Rwer Vallej 

do, and does only that. But the father 
conquered his pride and dared to step 
down for a time to the lower scale; not 
without qualm and hesitation and mo- 
ments of vexation ; but there was another 
light with him besides the smoking oil 
one that flickered in his cap — a light 
which came from the heart and made the 
wearing labor almost easy. 

It was not proposed to send Tommy to 
the preparatory school until mid-Sep- 
tember, so there were ten months remain- 
ing for work at home. And it was as- 
tonishing what progress they made. He 
had grown through his early boyhood, 
his mind like a great blank sheet of paper, 
ready to show and to retain the slightest 
touch. The beginning had been good, — 
there had been no false start, no waste of 
energy, no storing the precious chamber 
of the mind with useless lumber, — and 
the progress was still better. Long and 
anxiously did his two teachers consult 
together over the best methods to pursue 
131 


Tommy Remington^ s Battle 

in this unusual case, and his progress 
proved the wisdom of their decisions. 

So the months passed. Spring came, 
and summer, and at last it was time for 
Miss Andrews to close her school and 
return to her home. She was almost 
sorry to go, her work had grown so fas- 
cinating, her life so full and useful. She 
had come to look upon the world about 
her from a view-point altogether changed ; 
she thought no longer of how it might 
affect her, but of how she might affect it. 
In a word, she had grown to a true wo- 
man’s stature, in mind as well as body. 
But Tommy’s studies were arranged for 
the summer, and she would be back again 
before he left for the East. He and the 
minister waved her good-by from the 
platform of the little yellow frame station, 
and turned back to their work. Those 
summer months were the hardest of them 
all, for his tutor was determined that the 
boy should make a good showing at the 
school, and so kept him close at work, 
132 


Good-by to New Rwer Valley 

watching carefully, however, to see he 
was not driven beyond his capacity and 
the edge taken from his eagerness for 
knowledge. But, despite the long hours 
of study. Tommy kept health and strength 
and freshness. All his life he had used 
his body only; now he was using his 
brain, with all the unspent energy of those 
boyish years stored up in it. And when 
his other teacher came back to her school 
she was astonished at his progress. 

Mr. Bayliss had good news for her, too, 
of another sort. 

“ I have secured him a scholarship,” he 
said. “ I knew I could count on the help 
of the head-master. It is an unusual con- 
cession, too, for the scholarships are rarely 
granted until the end of the first term. 
But they have never before had a case 
like this, and it appealed to them, as I 
knew it would. So three hundred dollars 
a year will see him through.” 

“ That is fine ! ” she cried. “ I will see 
about the money at once.” 

133 


Tommy Remingtort s Battle 

It was the evening after her return 
from Richmond that she sought out Jabez 
Smith in his accustomed seat on the back 
porch. He glanced at her wonderingly as 
she resolutely brought the low rocker for- 
ward, planted it near his chair, and sat 
down. 

“N^ice evenin’, ain’t it?” he observed, 
hitching one leg over the other and puff- 
ing his pipe uneasily, for he had developed 
a great shyness of her. 

Yes, it is a nice evening,” she assented, 
laughing to herself, for she felt that she 
knew this man through and through. 
“I ’ve come to make my report, Mr. 
Smith.” 

“ Report? ” he repeated. 

“Yes — about Tommy Remington. He’s 
been working hard for almost a year, and 
has made wonderful progress. Yon 
wanted us to find out if he had the mak- 
ing of a scholar in him. Well, he has. 
He is fine enough to take almost any 
polish.” 


134 


Good-by to New Rwer Valley 

Jabez grunted and looked out at the 
hillside. 

“His father has consented, too,” she 
continued resolutely, “and Mr. Bayliss 
has secured him a scholarship, so you see 
we ’ve performed our part of the bar- 
gain.” 

“ An’ now y’ want me t’ do mine,” he 
said. “Well, Jabez Smith never went 
back on a barg’in, an’ he ain’t a-goin’ t’ 
break thet record now.” 

He took a great wallet from an inside 
pocket and slowly counted out a pile of 
bills. 

“ I was ready f er y’,” he said, and handed 
her the money. “I guessed you ’d be 
a-comin’ after me afore long. There ’s 
three hunderd dollars. An’ here ’s th’ 
note ; now don’t y’ fergit this is business 
— not a bit o’ sentiment about it. You 
git him t’ sign his name t’ th’ note, an’ 
then bring it back t’ me.” 

She took the money and the paper 
with trembling hands. 

135 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

“ Well, ain’t thet all? ” he asked, seeing 
that she still lingered. 

“ INTo, it is not all,” she cried impulsively. 
“I want to tell you something of the 
great good yon ’re doing — of how I 
feel about it.” 

“Not a word,” he said sternly. “It ’s 
business, I tell y’.” 

“ Business ! ” she echoed. “ I suppose 
all the rest was business, too — the food 
for the miners’ families when they were 
starving, the — ” 

“ Stop ! ” he interrupted fiercely. “ D’ 
y’ want t’ spile my smoke?” 

“ I see through you ! ” she cried. “ I 
know you ! Be just as cross as you like ; 
I can see the soft, warm heart beating 
under it all.” 

He sprang from his chair as though to 
run away; but she caught him by the 
shoulders, pressed him back into it, printed 
a swift kiss on his forehead, and fled, 
leaving him staring bewilderedly at the 
hillside. 


136 


Good-by to New Rwer Valley 

She gave Tommy the note next morn- 
ing and asked him to sign it, telling him, 
too, of Jabez Smith’s kindness, and that 
he must make no effort at present to show 
his gratitude — that could come later. 
What his thoughts were she could only 
guess, for after he had signed, he sat for 
a long time, looking straight before him 
with eyes that saw nothing, and with lips 
held tight together to keep them from 
trembling. 

Every period of waiting must have an 
end, and the day of departure came at 
last. Word of this new and wonderful 
venture into the unknown world had got 
about among the cabins, and quite a 
crowd gathered at the station to see him 
off. Opinion was divided as to the wis- 
dom of the enterprise. Some thought it 
foolish. Others regarded it with a kind 
of awe. But all looked with interest 
at the little procession which presently 
emerged from the Remington cabin and 
came slowly down the path. 

137 


Tommy Remington s Battle 

Tommy they hardly knew. His father, 
by working overtime and practising biting 
economy, had saved enough money to buy 
him a new suit of clothes, a new hat, and 
a new pair of shoes. The remainder of 
his wardrobe, prepared by his mother 
with loving fingers, disputed the posses- 
sion of a small square trunk with the 
books which the minister had given him 
and which he would need at Lawrence- 
ville. It was not a gay procession. To 
father and mother alike, this journey of 
five hundred miles seemed a tempting of 
Providence, and Tommy himself was 
awed at the trip before him. So little 
was said as they stood on the platform 
and waited for the train. 

Miss Andrews and the minister kept 
up a desultory talk, but the gloom ex- 
tended even to them. It is always a 
venturesome thing to take a boy from 
the sphere in which he is born and the 
environment in which he has grown up, 
and attempt to launch him upon some 
138 


Good-hj to New River Valley 

other plane of life. The responsibility of 
those who try to shape the lives of others 
is no little one, nor is it to be undertaken 
lightly. These two, who fancied they 
saw in this boy a capability for greater 
things than mere labor in the mines, fully 
understood all this, and for the moment 
it weighed upon them and was not to be 
shaken off. 

At last, away down the track, sounded 
the whistle of the approaching train, and 
in a moment it whirled into sight. Mrs. 
Remington caught her boy in her arms 
and kissed him. 

“ Good-by, Tommy,” she said, and 
pressed him con\ailsively to her breast. 
“ Be a good boy.” 

All pretense of composure dropped 
from Tommy, and he turned to his father 
with streaming eyes. 

Good-by, father,” he sobbed. 

His father hugged him close. 

“ Good-by, son,” he said with trembling 
voice. ‘‘Y’ must write to your ma an’ 
139 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

me. The preacher ’ll read us th’ letters, 
an’ we ’ll like t’ git ’em.” 

“ I will, oh, I will ! ” sobbed Tommy. 

The train stopped at the platform with 
shrieking wheels. 

“ All aboard ! ” shouted the conductor. 
“ Hurry up, there.” 

Tommy shook hands tremulously with 
Miss Andrews and the minister. He 
caught a glimpse of Jabez Smith coming 
to get the mail, and started toward him 
with a vague intention of thanking him; 
but some one caught Tommy by the arm 
and pushed him up the steps and into the 
coach. The train was off. Through the 
window he caught one more glimpse of 
the little group on the platform, and then 
the train whirled him away into the great 
unknown. 


140 


CHAPTEE IX 


A GLIMPSE OF A NEW WORLD 

B ut Tommy’s sorrow did not endure 
long. How could it in face of the 
wonders to be seen every minute through 
the window? For a time the old familiar 
mountains closed in the view, but they 
assumed strange and unaccustomed shapes 
as they whirled backward past him, with 
the foreground all blurred and the more 
distant peaks turning in stately line, like 
mammoth soldiers. A hand on his shoul- 
der brought him from the window. 

“ Let ’s have your ticket, sonny,” said 
the conductor. 

Tommy produced it from the inside 
pocket of his coat. The conductor took 
it, unfolded it, and then glanced in sur- 
prise from it to the boyish face. 

141 


Tommy Remington^ s Battle 

‘‘You ’re going a good ways, ain’t 
you?” he remarked pleasantly. “You ’ll 
have to change cars at Washington. We 
get there at three thirty-nine this after- 
noon. I ’ll get somebody there to look 
out after you.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” answered Tommy. 
It was good to find that friendly and 
helpful people lived out in the big world. 

“ That ’s all right,” and the conductor 
punched his ticket and handed it back to 
him. “You have n’t got a thing to do 
now but to sit here and look out the win- 
dow. Got anything to eat? ” 

“Yes, sir,” said Tommy, and pointed 
to a box which his mother had filled for 
him. 

“ All right. You ’ll find drinking water 
up there at the end of the car. Mind you 
don’t try to leave the car or get off when 
we stop, or you ’ll be left.” And with 
this final warning, he passed on to his 
other duties. 

But Tommy had no desire whatever to 
142 


A Glimpse of a New World 

move from his seat. The train flew on 
past miners’ cabins and scattered hamlets, 
till at last the mines were left behind, 
and the mountains began to fall back 
from the river which they had crowded 
so closely. The great white inn at 
Clifton Forge, with its stately court and 
playing fountains, gave him a glimpse 
of fairyland. Soon he was looking out 
miles and miles across a wide valley, 
dotted like a great chess-board with fields 
of corn and barley, and with the white 
farm-houses here and there peeping 
through their sheltering groves of oaks 
and chestnuts. It seemed a peaceful, 
happy, contented country, and Tommy’s 
eyes dwelt upon it wistfully. Wide, level 
fields were something new to his experi- 
ence, and he longed to have a good run 
across them. The mountains fell farther 
and farther away, until at last not one re- 
mained to mar the line where the sky 
stooped to the horizon. 

At Charlottesville Tommy caught his 
143 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

first glimpse of what a great city may be. 
ISTow Charlottesville is not by any means 
a great city, but the crowds which 
thronged the long platform and eddied 
away into the streets drew from him a 
gasp of astonishment. And then the 
houses, built one against another in long 
rows that seemed to have no end! He 
had not thought that people could live so 
close together. 

The train hurried on over historic 
ground, if Tommy had only known it, — 
Gordonsville, Culpeper, Manassas, — 
where thirty-five years before every 
house and fence and clump of trees had 
been contested stubbornly and bloodily 
by blue and gray. Another historic 
place they touched, Alexandria, where 
the church George Washington attended 
and the very pew he sat in still remain. 
Then along the bank of the Potomac, 
whose two miles or more of width made 
the boy gasp again, across a long bridge, 
and in a moment Tommy found himself 
144 


A Glimpse of a New World 

looking out at a tall, massive shaft of 
stone that resembled nothing so much as 
a gigantic chimney, and beyond it great 
buildings, and still other great buildings, 
as far as the eye could reach. 

“ W ashington ! ” yelled the brakeman, 
slamming back the door. “All out fo’ 
W ashington ! ” 

Tommy grasped his box convulsively, 
— it was the only part of his baggage 
that had been left to his care, for his 
trunk was ahead in the baggage-car, — 
and looked anxiously around for his 
friend the conductor. That blue-coated 
official had not forgotten him, and in a 
moment Tommy saw him coming. 

“Now you stay right where you are,” 
he said, “ till I get all the other passengers 
off, and then I ’ll come back after you.” 

“ All right, sir,” answered Tommy, 
breathing a sigh of relief. “ I ’ll be right 
here, sir.” 

The crowds at Charlottesville were no- 
thing to those that hurried past him now. 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

and he sat watching them, fascinated, 
until he heard the conductor calling from 
the door. 

“ Step lively, sonny,” he called, and as 
they jumped down together to the plat- 
form, he saw that Tommy was carrying 
the unopened box in which his dinner 
was. “ Why, look here,” he said, did n’t 
you eat anything?” 

Tommy looked down at the box, and 
hesitated a moment in the effort at recol- 
lection. 

“ I don’t believe I did,” he said at last. 

I forgot about it. I was n’t hungry.” 

“ I ’ll bet it ’s the first time you ever 
forgot your dinner,” chuckled the con- 
ductor. “ Here, now,” he added, as they 
entered the great waiting-room, you sit 
down in this seat and wait for me. I have 
to go and make my report, but it won’t 
take me long.” 

Tommy sat down obediently, and 
watched the crowds surging back and 
forth through the station and out upon 
146 


A Glimpse of a New World 

the long stone platforms. It seemed to 
him that all the residents of Washington 
must be either leaving the trains or crowd- 
ing into them. He wondered why so 
many people should have to travel, but 
before he could make any progress toward 
solving the question, the conductor was 
back again, bringing another official with 
him. 

“ This is the boy, Jim,” he said. “ By 
the way, what ’s your name, sonny?” 

“ Tommy — Tommy Remington.” 

“Well, Tommy, Jim here is one of the 
callers. He ’ll have to take the four-fifty 
for Trenton, Jim. Don’t let him miss it.” 

“ I won’t. I ’ll look out for him.” 

“ All right. Good-by, Tommy.” 

“ Good-by, sir,” and Tommy placed his 
hand in the great paw that the good- 
natured official held out to him. “ And 
thank you again, sir.” 

“You ’re welcome”; and he gave 
Tommy’s hand a squeeze that made him 
wince. “Wait a minute,” he added sud- 
147 


Tommj Remington’s Battle 

denly, turning to Jim. “ An hour and a 
half is a long time for the boy to wait. 
Can’t he see some of the sights ? ” 

“We might put him on the street-car,” 
said Jim, “ and let him ride out to George- 
town and back. That ’ll give him enough 
to think about for a week.” 

“ All right.” And the conductor slipped 
a dime into the other’s hand. “ Here, you 
pay the car conductor and tell him to look 
out after the boy. I ’ve sort o’ taken a 
liking to him,” he added shamefacedly, 
and hurried away toward the home where 
his wife and another little chap, not 
half so large as Tommy, were waiting to 
welcome him. 

Jim went back to Tommy. 

“ Come on,” he said. “ You ’re going 
to take a street-car ride along the most 
famous street in the country. Here, give 
me the box. I ’ll take care of it till you 
get back.” 

Tommy handed over the box, and fol- 
lowed him to the entrance, where queer 
148 


A Glimpse of a New World 

open cars, such as he had never seen be- 
fore, were dashing up and departing every 
minute. Jim said a few words to the con- 
ductor of one of these, and gave him the 
dime. 

J ump up there on the front seat,” he 
said to Tommy, and don’t get off the 
car till you get back here.” 

Tommy scrambled up beside the motor- 
man, who had been watching the proceed- 
ing with kindly interest, and in a moment 
the car turned out into Pennsylvania 
Avenue. 

To those who visit Washington straight 
from the stately thoroughfares of Boston, 
New York, or Philadelphia, this famous 
street may at first prove something of a 
disappointment, although its beauty im- 
proves on closer acquaintance ; but to this 
boy, coming straight from the West Vir- 
ginia mountains, it seemed a very vision of 
loveliness, and he gazed at it with dazzled 
eyes. The broad avenue, thronged with 
handsome equipages and hurrying people, 
149 


Tommy Remington' s Battle 

stretched straight before him, bathed in 
the brilliant afternoon sunshine. 

That ’s the Post-office,” remarked the 
motorman, as they whirled past a great 
structure of gray granite. This big 
building right ahead here is the United 
States Treasury. That ’s where they 
keep all the money.” 

Tommy gazed at it with respectful 
eyes as the car turned the corner and 
continued on past the building to the next 
block. There was another sharp turn, 
and in a moment they were passing what 
seemed to Tommy a great flower-garden, 
with a beautiful white mansion showing 
through the trees. 

‘‘ That ’s the White House,” said the 
motorman. That ’s where the Presi- 
dent lives.” 

As they passed in front of it, the trees 
opened into a wide vista, and the boy 
saw the stately portico with the wings 
on either side. Beyond the west wing 
extended a long glass structure which 
150 


A Glimpse of a New World 

seemed crowded with flowers and whose 
use Tommy could not imagine. He had 
read somewhere that people who live in 
glass houses should not throw stones, 
but he had very much doubted if any 
one really lived in a glass house. Yet 
here was unmistakably a glass house, so 
perhaps people did live in them, after all. 
But they were past before he could reason 
this out any farther, and another tremen- 
dous stone building loomed ahead. 

“ That ’s the War Department and the 
Navy,” said the motorman. “It ’s the 
largest office building in the world.” 

Tommy looked, and with beating heart 
saw two cannon frowning at him. But 
he had only a glimpse of them and the car 
had whirled by. There were no more 
great buildings after this, but the avenue 
grew lovelier, with its lines of graceful 
shade-trees, and behind them the beautiful 
residences nestling amid broad lawns. 
They circled about a little park with a 
statue in the center, a man on horseback, 
151 


Tommy Remington’ s Battle 

— Washington, the motorman said, — and 
then on down the street again. The 
car crossed a little creek which marked 
the boundary between Washington and 
Georgetown, and at the end of a few 
minutes ran into a building where several 
other cars were waiting their turn to be 
sent back over the line. 

Five minutes later they started back 
again, over the same route by which they 
had come. Tommy was careful this time 
to get a better look at the cannon and 
the big anchor in front of the War and 
Navy Building, and at the White House 
through the vista of trees that stretched 
in front of it. As the car swung around 
the corner of the Treasury Building, he 
saw for the first time the full sweep of 
the avenue. Away at the end, high up 
against the sky, stood a fairy dome, gilded 
by the last rays of the declining sun. He 
had no need to ask what it was, for he 
had seen it pictured too often. It was 
the dome of the Capitol. He kept his 
152 


A Glimpse of a New World 

eyes fixed on it until the car turned into 
the side street and stopped again at the 
station. 

Jim was on the lookout for him, and 
led him back into the waiting-room. 

“Well,” he asked, “what do you think 
of Washington?” 

Tommy looked up at him, his eyes dark 
with excitement. 

“ Oh,” he began, “ oh ! ” and sank 
speechless into a seat. 

“ Kind o’ knocked you out, hey ? ” And 
Jim laughed. “Well, I don’t wonder. 
Here ’s your box. Your train will be 
ready pretty soon. You wait here till I 
come for you.” 

For the first time that day. Tommy 
felt the pangs of hunger, — his body de- 
manded sustenance after all this excite- 
ment, — and he opened his box and did 
full justice to the chicken sandwiches 
and cakes and cheese he found within. 
He was wrapping up the remains of the 
lunch when Jim called him. 

153 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

“ Come on, Tommy; here ’s your train,” 
he said, and Tommy hurried out upon the 
platform, where a long train stood ready 
for its trip to 'New York. He entered 
the coach, bade Jim good-by, and sat 
down in one of the seats. Through the 
window he could see the crowd hurrying 
to and fro along the platform. A train 
puffed in on the adjoining track and dis- 
gorged its living freight. Great trucks, 
piled high with baggage, were wheeled 
by. Then came the far-away voice of 
the conductor, a scurrying of belated 
passengers, and the train glided slowly 
out of the station. Evening had come, 
and along the streets the electric lamps 
sprang suddenly alight. Great crowds 
of men and women were leaving the gov- 
ernment buildings, with one more day’s 
labor accomplished. It was all new and 
strange; but even as he looked, a great 
weariness crept upon him, — the weari- 
ness which follows unaccustomed excite- 
ment, — his head fell back against the 
154 


A Glimpse of a New World 

seat, and he was sound asleep. He was 
vaguely conscious of the conductor get- 
ting his ticket from him, but he knew no 
more until he felt some one roughly 
shaking him. 

“AVake up, youngster,” called a voice 
in his ear. ‘‘We ’ll be at Trenton in a 
minute. You have to get off there.” 

Tommy sat up and rubbed his eyes. 
The bright lights in the coach dazzled 
him, but he was pulled to his feet and led 
toward the door. 

“ Wait a minute, now,” said the voice. 

Then came the little shock that told 
that the brakes had been applied, and the 
train stopped. 

“]S^ow mind the steps,” said the voice, 
and Tommy was hustled down to the plat- 
form. “ There you are.” And before he 
quite realized it, the train was speeding 
away again through the darkness. He 
looked about him. Back of him extended 
what seemed to be a long shed. The 
station was on the other side of the tracks, 
155 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

as he could see by the gleaming lights, 
but there seemed no way to get to it, for 
two high fences had been built to prevent 
passengers crossing. 

‘‘Where are you bound for, young- 
ster?” asked a voice. 

“ Lawrence ville,” answered Tommy; 
and rubbing his eyes desperately, he fi- 
nally managed to make out another man 
in blue uniform. 

“This your baggage?” and the man 
picked up Tommy’s little trunk and threw 
it on his shoulder. 

“Yes, sir; that ’s mine.” 

“All right. You ’ve got to take the 
stage over here; it ’s a six-mile drive. 
Come on.” And the man led the way 
down a steep flight of stone steps, along 
a tunnel which ran under the tracks, and 
up another flight of steps on the other 
side. “ Here, Bill,” he called to a man 
who, whip in hand, was standing on 
the platform; “here ’s a passenger fer 
you.” 


156 


A Glimpse of a New World 

The man with the whip hurried toward 
them. 

“Is your name Thomas Remington?” 
he asked the boy. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ All right, then. They told me t’ look 
out fer you. Here ’s th’ stage, out here.” 

He led the way through the waiting- 
room to the street beyond, where the 
stage stood, the horses hitched to a con- 
venient lamp-post. Tommy clambered 
sleepily aboard. 

“Where ’s your trunk-check?” asked 
the driver. 

Tommy fumbled in his pocket and 
finally produced it. 

The driver took it and went back into 
the station. Presently the boy saw him 
come out again, bearing the trunk on his 
shoulder. He placed it in the back part 
of the stage, unhitched his horses, and 
climbed up beside his passenger. 

“ Now we ’re all right,” he said cheerily, 
and clucked to his horses. 


157 


Tommy Remington s Battle 

“What time is it?” asked Tommy, for 
it seemed to him that he must have been 
traveling all night, and that the dawn 
could not be far distant. 

“ Nearly ten o’clock,” said the driver. 
“ You ’ll be at Lawrenceville in half an 
hour.” 

By a supreme effort. Tommy kept his 
eyes open until they had left the town be- 
hind and were rumbling briskly along a 
wide, level road. Then his head fell back 
again, and he wakened only at the jour- 
ney’s end. 

“ The boy ’s been traveling all day,” 
said some one, “ and is nearly dead for 
sleep. Take him up to twenty- one, Mr. 
Dean.” And he was led tottering away 
to bed. 


158 


CHAPTER X 


AN EFFORT IN SELF-DENIAL 

W HEN Tommy opened his eyes the 
next morning, awakened by the 
ringing of a bell, he found himself lying 
in an iron bed, between the whitest of 
white sheets. It was a most comfortable 
bed, and he stretched himself luxuriously 
as he looked about the pleasant room. 
In an instant he found himself gazing 
straight into another pair of eyes, whose 
owner was sitting up in a bed just oppo- 
site his own. 

I say,” said the stranger, “ where did 
you come from?” 

“ Wentworth, West Virginia,” answered 
Tommy, promptly. 

“Never heard of it. What ’s your 
name?” 


159 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

“ Tommy Remington. What ’ s yours ? ” 

“I ’m Jack Sexton. But, I say, I 
would n’t let myself be called ‘ Tommy.’ 
That ’s a kid’s name. Make ’em call you 
Tom.” 

Tommy lay for a moment without re- 
plying. He had not thought of it before, 
but the stranger was right. “Tommy” 
was unquestionably a baby-name. Just 
then another bell rang. 

“Hullo, there goes the second bell!” 
exclaimed Jack. “We ’ve got to hustle 
if we want to get any breakfast.” 

He sprang out of bed, and Tommy 
followed him. He picked up a great, soft 
towel, and vanished through a door at 
the farther end of the room. In a mo- 
ment Tommy heard a prodigious splash- 
ing of water. 

“Hurry up,” called Jack. “Bring 
your towel and come in here, or you ’ll 
be late.” 

Tommy picked up his towel and hurried 
into the other room. He paused an in- 
160 


An Ejfort in Self-denial 

stant at the door in amazement. Jack 
stood under a wide stream of water, dan- 
cing fiendishly and rubbing his face and 
head. 

“ Come on in,” he sputtered. “ It ’s 
great fun.” 

Tommy threw off his night-clothes, and 
in an instant was also under the stream. 
The water made him shiver when it first 
touched him, but his healthy vitality as- 
serted itself, and that first shower-bath 
was enjoyed to the uttermost. Then out 
again, with the great towels around them, 
rubbing the skin until it glowed. 

“ Gee-crickety ! ” exclaimed Jack, cast- 
ing an admiring glance at Tommy’s neck 
and shoulders. “You ’re a good un. 
Let ’s feel your arm.” 

Tommy obligingly held out his arm and 
made the biceps swell. 

“Hard as a rock,” said Jack, fingering 
it with great respect. “ You must have 
been in training all your life.” 

“In training?” repeated Tommy. “I 
11 161 


Tojnnij' Remington^ s Battle 

don’t know. I ’ve been digging coal 
pretty near all my life.” 

Jack gave a low whistle of astonish- 
ment. 

‘^Digging coal? In a mine? Well, 
I ’d dig coal for a year if I could get a 
pair of shoulders like yours. You ’re 
just the man we need for guard.” 

“For guard?” And Tommy remem- 
bered the three men with Winchester 
rifles who watched the company’s safe 
at Wentworth on pay-days. 

“ Yes, for guard. You ’re too big to 
play back of the line, you know. Come 
on. I ’ll introduce you to the captain.” 

Tommy followed him, wondering be- 
wilderedly what it was he was expected 
to guard. Down the stairs they went, 
and into the cool, airy dining-room, where 
some twenty boys were gathered, under 
supervision of the house-master, Mr. 
Prime. Sexton introduced Tommy to 
the other boys, and though he felt some- 
what shy at first, this wore off as the 
162 


An Effoj^t in Self-denial 

meal progressed. And such a meal it 
seemed to him! — the spotless napery, the 
shining table-service, the abundant, well- 
cooked food, — small wonder these boys 
seemed happy and brimming over with 
animal spirits! 

It was not until after the simple little 
service in Edith Chapel, where the whole 
school gathered every morning to open 
the day’s work, that he met Captain Blake; 
for Blake, being in the fourth form, en- 
joyed the privilege of rooming in the 
great brick Upper House, apart from a 
house-master’s supervision. Blake shook 
hands with him, and then he and Sexton 
took him over to the gymnasium, stripped 
off his shirt, and looked him over. Tommy 
stood patiently while they examined him, 
and listened to Sexton’s enthusiastic 
praise. 

“ He ’ll do,” said Blake, at last, nodding 
emphatically. “We have n’t another pair 
of shoulders and arms like that at Law- 
renceville. The only question is, does he 
163 


Toinnij' Remington's Battle 

know how to use them? ^^ow, Reming- 
ton, what do you know about football?” 

Tommy stared. 

I don’t know anything about it,” he 
said ; “ I never heard of it.” 

‘‘Well,” said Blake, smiling, “you 
won’t hear much else around here till 
after Thanksgiving. It ’s a game, and 
we ’re going to teach you how to play it. 
You bring him out this afternoon, Sexton, 
and we ’ll give him his first practice.” 
And Blake hurried away to attend to 
some other of his multitudinous duties as 
captain of the school eleven. 

That morning Tommy had an interview 
with the head-master, who questioned him 
closely about his studies and seemed much 
interested in him. The boy felt that here 
was a man upon whose kindly sympathy 
and encouragement he could rely. 

“I think you will get along all right,” 
he said at last, “though it will not be 
easy for you. But, with study, you should 
be able to keep up with your classes. 

164 


An Effoj^t in Self-denial 

My friend Bayliss has written me much 
about you,” he added. “He thinks a 
great deal of you, and you must try not to 
disappoint him. Mr. King will arrange 
your studies,” he. concluded; and Tommy 
was turned over to the tutor. 

He found Mr. King a kindly though 
somewhat impatient young man, who 
probed his attainments to the bottom and 
soon decided just what classes he must 
join. His studies were scheduled, his 
text-books arranged, and the real work 
begun without delay — a routine much 
like that in all good preparatory schools. 

Sexton carried him off immediately after 
lunch. 

“ I ’ve got an extra suit,” he said, “ I 
can lend you. I thought once that I could 
make the team myself, but I ’m not heavy 
enough.” And he led the way to the 
gymnasium, where he opened a locker and 
produced the suit. And presently Tom- 
my found himself arrayed in canvas jacket 
and great padded knickerbockers, long 
165 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

stockings, and shoes with heavy leather 
cleats on the bottom. Then he was 
taken out into the field, where he found 
some two dozen other boys similarly 
attired. 

Blake nodded to them curtly. 

“ You give him his first lesson, Sexton,” 
he said. “ Tell him what it ’s all about, 
and let him watch the other fellows 
awhile, until he catches on a little.” 

So Sexton told Tommy about the game: 
How it is played by two teams each of 
eleven members, whose object it is to 
force the ball, an oblong sphere of pig- 
skin, down the field before them, until 
they carry it past the end of the field, or 
gridiron. This is called making a “ touch- 
down,” and scores five points. How the ball 
is then taken out into the field again and 
kicked, and if it passes between the two 
uprights and over the bar which are fixed 
at the end of the field, it is called a goal,” 
and scores another point. How if the ball 
is kicked over the bar from the field while 
166 


An Effort in Self-denial 

it is in play, it is called “ kicking a goal 
from field,” and also counts five points. 
Many other niceties of the game Sexton 
told him, which need not be set down 
here, and when the candidates for the 
team were ready to line up, he had a 
pretty good idea of what they were going 
to try to do. He watched them take their 
places and kick off the ball, and was soon 
shouting up and down the side-lines with 
the best of them. He had never seen 
such a game, and it appealed to his every 
instinct for good, hearty, honest strife and 
exertion. 

‘‘All right, Hemington; come on out 
here,” called Blake, presently, and Tommy 
ran out. “ Now you ’re to play left guard,” 
continued Blake. “ You stand right here 
next to the center. Now the minute you 
see the ball snapped back, you push this 
man opposite you out of the way, and 
charge ahead. If anybody else tries to 
tackle you, block him off this way with 
your elbows”; and Blake suited the 
167 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

action to the word. “Of course,” he 
added, “ in a real game you would n’t be 
tackled unless they thought you had the 
ball, but just now I ’m going to break 
you in a little, so that you ’ll learn some- 
thing about tackling for yourself.” 

“ All right,” said Tommy, and took his 
place in the line. 

“I^ow keep your eye on the ball, fel- 
lows,” cautioned Blake. “ One-six-eight- 
eleven.” 

Tommy had no idea what the string of 
numbers meant, but he saw the ball 
snapped back, and he threw himself for- 
ward with all his strength. The man 
opposite him went down like a ninepin, 
and Tommy caught a glimpse of a little 
fellow jumping at him with extended 
arms, and wondered at his temerity. 
Somebody grasped him about the knees, 
clung to him with tenacious grip, and 
down they went in a heap. Two or three 
others fell over him, and then they slowly 
disentangled themselves. 

168 


An Effort in Self-denial 

“ Good work, Remington. Good tackle, 
Reeves,” commented Blake, briefly; and 
Tommy saw it was the little fellow who 
had brought him down with such appa- 
rent ease. 

Say, that was game ! ” said Tommy. 

Little Reeves smiled. 

“ Oh, it was easy enough. You were n’t 
going fast. Why did n’t you jump?” 

“Jump?” 

“ Yes. Whenever you see a fellow 
coming at you, and you have n’t room to 
dodge him, jump right at him. That will 
knock him over backwards, and even if 
he hangs on to you, and you fall, too, 
you have gained some ground, and maybe 
cleared the way for the man with the ball 
who ’s coming after you.” 

“ Thanks,” said Tommy, gratefully. 
“ I ’ve got a lot to learn, you know. I ’ll 
try it next time.” 

“Hurry up, fellows; line up,” called 
Blake; and for the next hour Tommy 
was hauled around and kneaded and 
169 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

rolled on the ground. Then they gave 
him a lesson in falling on the ball, — it 
was wonderful how elusive and slippery 
it turned out to be,- — and at the end Blake 
was pleased to commend him. 

“You ’ll do,” he said. “You ’ll make 
a good guard after you learn the game. 
Mind you ’re out to-morrow afternoon. 
It is n’t every man has such a chance.” 

And Tommy retired to the gymnasium 
for a bath and a rub-down, feeling very 
good indeed. When he had got back to 
his room, it occurred to him that he ought 
to write a letter home, and he sat down 
to this duty. But how far away 'New 
River valley and the cramped, monoto- 
nous life there seemed! He had been 
away from it only a day, but it seemed 
ages off, and he reflected with satisfac- 
tion that he was going to escape it alto- 
gether. He shivered at the thought that 
he might never have escaped it — that he 
might have passed his whole life there, 
without knowing anything about the 
170 


An Effort in Self-denial 

great, glorious outside world. He ad- 
dressed the letter to his father, but it was 
really for his two old teachers that he 
wrote, and he told something of his trip 
and of his great good fortune in getting 
a chance on the team. He had an uneasy 
feeling that the letter was not so loving 
as it should have been, but he tried to 
make up for this with some affectionate 
words at the close. 

Every afternoon, after that. Tommy 
donned his canvas suit, and soon began 
to have a fair idea of the game. Blake 
put his strongest man opposite him, and 
the remainder of the boys would throng 
the side-lines to see Remington and Smith 
fight it out. Both were unusually strong 
for their age, — Smith had been reared on 
a great cattle-ranch in the West, — and 
as it was nip and tuck between them, 
both grew stronger and better players, 
while Blake contemplated them with 
satisfaction, and congratulated himself 
on possessing the best pair of guards 
171 


Tommy Remington' s Battle 

that had ever played together on a Law- 
renceville team. But of a sudden his 
satisfaction was rudely blasted. 

Tommy had been practising faithfully 
for three weeks or more, when he sud- 
denly became aware that he was falling 
behind in his studies. He had not noticed 
it at first, so absorbed was he in his new 
surroundings; but one morning, at the 
recitation in history, he found that he did 
not at all understand what the lesson was 
about, for the reason that he had quite 
forgotten the events which led up to it. 
When the recitation was over, he went 
up to his room and did some hard think- 
ing. It was evident at the outset that he 
could not afford any longer to spend the 
best part of every afternoon on the foot- 
ball field. These other boys had an im- 
mense advantage — all their lives they 
had been unconsciously absorbing know- 
ledge which he must work out for him- 
self. Their associations had always been 
with books and with educated people, and 
172 


An Effort in Self-denial 

in consequence they were so far ahead of 
him that the only way he could keep up 
was by extra study. He knew that if he 
once fell very far behind he would never 
catch up again. 

So that day after lunch, instead of 
hurrying into his football clothes, Tommy 
mounted resolutely to his room, opened 
his history at the very first, and went to 
work at it. It was not an easy task. He 
could hear the shouts of the boys from 
the field, and the bright sunshine tempted 
him to come out of doors; but he kept 
resolutely at work. Presently he heard 
some one running up the stairs, and 
Sexton burst into the room, and stopped 
astonished at sight of Tommy bending 
over his book. 

“ Oh, say,” he protested, “ you can’t do 
that, you know. Remington. Blake is 
waiting for you before he begins prac- 
tice. Hurry up and get into your foot- 
ball togs.” 

But Tommy shook his head. 

173 


Tommj Remington^ s Battle 

“I can’t do it, Jack,” he said. “I ’m 
falling too far behind. Why, to-day, in 
history, I did n’t know what Mr. Knox 
was talking about.” 

Sexton laughed. 

“Well, what of it?” he asked. “Nei- 
ther did I. Don’t let a little thing like 
that worry you.” 

Tommy shook his head again. 

“ It don’t matter with you so much,” he 
said. “ You ’ve got other things. But I ’ve 
got only this. If I fail here, I ’m done.” 

Sexton grew suddenly grave, for he 
saw the case was more serious than he 
had thought. 

“You don’t mean to say that you ’re 
going to give up football altogether?” 
he asked incredulously. 

“ I ’m afraid I ’ll have to.” 

“ Don’t say that,” he protested. 
“Blake ’ll excuse you from practice for 
a day or two till you catch up. I ’ll tell 
him you ’re feeling a little stale. How ’ll 
that do?” 


174 


All Effort in Self-denial 

day or two won’t do any good, 
Jack,” said Tommy, resolutely. ‘‘You 
don’t know how much I ’ve got to learn 
before I ’ll be up with you fellows.” 

Sexton paused a moment to consider 
how best to rally his forces. 

“Now, see here, Remington,” he began, 
“you ’re looking at this thing all wrong. 
Suppose you do fall behind in your studies 
for a while. The tutors won’t be hard on 
you, because they know how you ’re needed 
on the team, and you can make it all up 
again later in the year by a little extra 
work. There ’ll be a dozen of the fellows 
ready to help you. But if you drop out 
of the team now, just when the games are 
coming on, it ’s all up with you at Law- 
renceville. The only fellow who can 
possibly play in your place is Banker, 
and you know how weak he is. It ’s 
Lawrenceville’s honor that ’s concerned, 
old man, and if you quit now, half the 
fellows in the place will cut you dead.” 

“ Surely it won’t be so bad as that,” 
175 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

protested Tommy. “You won’t cut me, 
will you, Jack? ” 

Sexton’s face grew red. 

“ ^^o, I won’t cut you,” he said. “ But 
lots of the fellows will. They ’ll make it 
as hard for you as they can.” 

Tommy’s lips went together. His fight- 
ing spirit was aroused. 

“ Let them,” he said. “ I ’ve made up 
my mind. I can’t see but one thing to 
do, and I ’m going to do it. Tell Blake 
I ’m sorry.” 

Sexton’s face grew stern, too, and he 
got up from his seat. 

“Is that final?” he asked. “Remem- 
ber, Blake won’t send for you a second 
time. He ’s not that kind.” 

“ I ’m sorry,” was all that Tommy could 
say. 

Sexton stood looking at him a moment 
longer, and then went out and closed the 
door behind him. 

Tommy, shutting all thought of the 
trouble from his mind as well as he could, 
176 


An Effort in Self-denial 

turned again to his history. That even- 
ing, when he went down to dinner, it was 
with the comfortable consciousness that 
he was ready for the next day’s lesson. 
But his satisfaction was of short duration. 
As he took his seat at table, instead of 
the hearty welcome he had grown accus- 
tomed to, there was a frigid silence. One 
or two of the boys nodded to him as he 
looked up and down the board, but very 
distantly. Tommy felt a lump rise in his 
throat as he gulped down his food, and 
began to understand what his new reso- 
lution was going to cost him. Then his 
mouth tightened, and he looked around 
defiantly, as though daring them to do 
their worst. 


12 


177 


CHAPTEE XI 


A GLIMPSE OE PPmOETON 

T he days that followed were not 
pleasant ones for Tommy, and more 
than once he went to bed with sore heart, 
after a particularly trying day. It was 
not that he was persecuted or interfered 
with, or that anything was done to him 
that would call for the head-master’s in- 
terference; none of the boys descended 
to that, though he might have even wel- 
comed a little persecution, for it was the 
other extreme that irked him. He was 
left to himself. He was taboo. At table, 
the talk excluded him. On the campus, 
no one saw him. In the class-room, no 
one seemed interested in whether he re- 
cited well or badly, or whether he recited 
178 


A Glimpse of Princeton 

at all. 'No one dropped in to chat with 
him in the evening, nor was he invited to 
any of the little gatherings the fellows 
were always having. Often, as he bent 
over his books in the evening, he would 
catch the tinkle of a banjo or a strain of 
college song, and his eyes blurred so with 
tears sometimes that he could not see the 
page before him. But it was only in the 
solitude of his room he permitted himself 
this weakness. To the world he showed 
a defiant face, and no one suspected how 
deeply he was hurt. After all, they were 
only boys, and it is not to be wondered at 
that, for the moment, victory on the foot- 
ball field appeared to them of more con- 
sequence than proficiency in class. 

Two things comforted him somewhat. 
One was that he no longer went to his 
classes unprepared. Indeed, he worked 
at his books so savagely that he was soon 
in the first group of the class, and more 
than once the tutors went out of their 
way to commend him — though it was 
179 


Tommy Remington' s Battle 

not for their commendation his heart was 
aching, but for that of his classmates. His 
other comfort was in a letter he had re- 
ceived from Mr. Bayliss in reply to the 
one he had written him telling of his 
quitting his football practice. The letter 
ran: 


I need hardly tell you how I have rejoiced 
in your strength in making this decision and in 
sticking to it. Nothing would compensate for 
failure in your classes— not even the applause of 
the football field. But I can readily understand 
how much the decision must have cost you, and 
I think I can foresee how it will affect the bear- 
ing of your classmates toward you, for school- 
boys sometimes have a very exaggerated and 
false notion of school honor. Concerning this 
last, let me give you a word of advice. Next to 
success in study, there is no more precious thing 
in college life than class friendship. One can 
well afford to sacrifice much to gain it. So I 
would not have you antagonize your classmates 
unnecessarily. Be prepared to make some sac- 
rifice for them— sacrifice of pride and conve- 
nience and time. Perhaps later in the year you 
may be so well up in your studies that you can 
180 



“ OFTEN, AS HE BENT OVER HIS BOOKS, HE WOULD CATCH THE TINKLE 
OF A BANJO OR A STRAIN OF COLLEGE SONG.” 








A Glimpse of Princeton 

afford again to take an active part in the school 
athletics. Do not hesitate to do so when you 
cant 

Tommy read this letter over and over 
again, and drew much consolation from 
it. Gradually, too, some of the fellows 
began to unbend a little. Little Reeves, 
who had tackled him so gamely at that 
first day’s practice, was the first to show 
his friendship. It was one evening, while 
Tommy was wandering disconsolately 
about the campus, that he first became 
aware of Reeves’s feeling toward him. 

“ I say. Remington,” somebody called 
after him. 

Tommy started at the unaccustomed 
sound of his name. 

“ Hullo, Reeves,” he said, as he turned 
and recognized him. 

“How are you, old man?” and Reeves 
held out his hand and gave Tommy’s a 
hearty clasp that brought his heart into 
his throat. “ Come up to my room awhile, 
can’t you, and let ’s have a talk.” 

183 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

“ Of course I can,” said Tommy, and in 
a moment was stumbling after Reeves up 
the stairs of Hamill House with a queer 
mist before his eyes. 

“ This is my sanctum,” Reeves remarked, 
turning up the light. “ Sit down here ” ; 
and he threw himself on the window- seat 
opposite. “ ISTow tell me about it, old 
fellow. I ’ve heard the fellows jawing, 
of course, but I want to know the straight 
of it.” 

And Tommy opened the flood-gates of 
his heart and poured the story forth. 
Reeves listened to the end without inter- 
rupting by word or sign. 

But how does it come,” he asked at 
last, that you can’t keep up and play 
football too? The other fellows do, and 
they don’t drive us so hard here. Has n’t 
your prep been good? ” 

^‘Good?” echoed Tommy. “Why, 
man, three years ago I could n’t read nor 
write.” 

“ Whew! ” whistled Reeves, and sat up 
184 


A Glimpse of Princeton 

and looked at him. “ Say, tell me about 
that. I should like to hear about that.” 

So Tommy, who felt as though he were 
lifting a great load from his heart, told 
him the story, beginning, just as this story 
began, at the moment he entered the little 
Wentworth school-house with the circus 
poster in his hand. How far away it 
seemed to him now! He could scarcely 
believe that it had happened so recently. 
Some parts of the story he did not tell in 
detail; he did not dwell upon the grime 
and misery of the mines, noi* upon the 
hard conditions of life in 'New River val- 
ley. Somehow they seemed strangely 
out of place in this airy, pleasant room, 
with this boy, who had been reared in 
luxury, for listener. So he hurried on 
to the time when he first looked into 
Lorna Doone,” and then to the patient 
work of the two who had taught him and 
fitted him for Lawrenceville. Let us 
do him the justice to say that he paid 
them full tribute. 


185 


Tommy' Remington'' s Battle 

“ Don’t you see,” he concluded, “ I can’t 
disappoint those two people. I ’ve just 
got to succeed. Besides, I can’t go back 
to the mines now. I ’ve seen something 
of the world outside. It ’d kill me to go 
back.” 

Beeves came over and gave him his 
hand again. 

Right,” he said heartily. “You ’re 
dead right. Say,” he added awkwardly, 
“let me help you, won’t you? I ’d like 
to. Come up here in the evenings and 
we ’ll tackle the books together. I don’t 
know very much, but maybe I can help a 
little. The master will consent, I know.” 

“ Will you? ” cried Tommy. “ Oh, will 
you? That ’s just what I want; that ’s 
just what I need! But maybe you ’ve 
other things to do — I don’t want to spoil 
your evenings.” 

“Nonsense!” growled Reeves. “I 
need the study as bad as you do — worse, 
I suspect. I ’ve been loafing too much 
anyway, and going over the rudiments 
186 


A Glimpse of Princeton 

again will help me. It ’s as much for 
my own sake as for yours.” 

So it was settled, the master did con- 
sent, and every night found the two to- 
gether. How great a help Reeves was to 
him need hardly be said. Yet I think the 
other profited as much — perhaps more. 
He profited in self-denial and in earnest- 
ness, and, in his eagerness to help Tommy 
on, himself devoted much more thought to 
the work than he would otherwise have 
done. Word got about that Reeves had 
taken Tommy’s side of the controversy, 
and for a time the others wondered. 
Some of them dropped in of an evening 
to see for themselves this remarkable 
sight of Reeves coaching Remington in 
the first-form work. The example proved 
a good one, and as time passed some of 
the other boys forgot their anger toward 
him, and admitted him again into their 
friendship. But it was to Reeves he 
clung closest of all. 

“ Say, Remington,” said the latter, one 
187 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

Saturday, “I ’m going to walk over to 
Princeton to-morrow after morning sei- 
vice. I ’ve got a big brother there in the 
sophomore class, and maybe he ’ll show 
ns around if he ’s feeling good. How ’d 
yon like to go along? ” 

“ I ’d like it,” said Tommy, with con- 
viction, for he had never yet had a glimpse 
of the great college whose achievements 
were being constantly dinned into his 
ears. “ But can I get leave? ” 

“ I ’ll fix it for yon,” answered Reeves, 
and he did. 

It was a pleasant three-mile walk, that 
cool October morning, along the level 
road, shaded on either side by stately 
elms. The old post-road it used to be, a 
century and a half before, running from 
New York to Philadelphia, a gay place 
echoing to the coachman’s horn, and later, 
during the Revolution, to the tramp of 
armies. Only the memory of its former 
glory now remains, but ^ its beauty is 
unchanged. They passed a row of old 
188 


A Glimpse of Princeton 

colonial residences, well back from the 
road, half hidden amid groves of trees and 
rows of formal hedge. Then into ^^assau 
Street they turned, and so to the college 
campus. 

^‘That’s I^assan Hall — ‘Old ^^orth,’ 
they call it here,” said Reeves, pointing 
to a long three-storied gray stone build- 
ing, half covered with ivy, stretching 
across the front campus. “It is so old 
that it was the largest building in America 
when it was built. During the Revolu- 
tion, after Washington won the battle of 
Princeton, just below here, some of the 
British took refuge in the building; but 
Washington’s cannon soon brought them 
out. There was a picture of George III. 
inside in the big hall, and they say that 
Washington’s first cannon-ball went 
through the picture and cut off the head. 
They put a picture of Washington in the 
frame afterward.” 

Tommy looked with respect at the old 
building, as solid and substantial now as 
189 


Tommy Remington^ s Battle 

it was the day it was erected. Back of it 
he caught a glimpse of many other build- 
ings, but Reeves turned in at the first 
one. 

“ These are all dormitories,” he said. 
“This is Reunion Hall. Ralph’s room is 
up there on the second fioor.” 

They stumbled up the stairs, which 
were very dark, and presently Reeves 
knocked at a door. There was no re- 
sponse, and he tried the knob. The door 
opened. 

“ Come on,” said Reeves. “ It ’s not 
locked. Come in and have a look at his 
den.” 

And for the first time Tommy caught a 
glimpse of a college room. Orange and 
black, the college colors, were every- 
where. The walls were covered by signs, 
secured in divers places, and by means 
that would not bear too close scrutiny — 
all sorts of signs: “For Rent,” “Keep 
Off the Grass,” “ Danger,” “ Beware the 
Dog,” “This Way to the Menagerie,” 
190 


A Glimpse of Princeton 

“Monkey House,” and so on. A banjo 
and guitar stood in one corner. Above 
the fireplace were two crossed lacrosse- 
sticks, a set of boxing-gloves, and a pair 
of foils with masks. Everywhere there 
were embroidered sofa-cushions — the 
work of devoted and ill-rewarded femi- 
nine fingers — and photographs and books 
and a great miscellany of trash such as 
only a college boy knows how to gather 
together. 

“Well, he ’s not here,” said Keeves, 
after a glance around. “ It ’s no use to 
wait for him. Maybe we ’ll meet him 
out on the campus. We ’ll take a walk 
around, anyway.” 

And take a walk around they did — 
past beautiful, many-arched Alexander 
Hall, where the commencement exercises 
are held; past the old gymnasium, with 
its bronze gladiator before it; past the 
observatory, with its great movable dome; 
past Blair Hall, with its lofty towers 
frowning down upon the little railway 
191 


Tommy Remington^ s Battle 

station; past Witherspoon Hall, the most 
luxurious of all the dormitories; past the 
two white marble buildings of the literary 
societies, AVhig and Clio, with their high, 
many-columned, classic porticos. Reeves 
showed Tommy the cannon captured from 
the British, and planted, muzzle down- 
ward, in the center of the quadrangle, 
forming the hub about which the whole 
college world revolved, and where the 
class-day exercises were held at com- 
mencement. Then on they went to 
McCosh Walk, with its rows of stately 
elms; to Prospect, where the president 
lives; and back again past Marquand 
Chapel and the new library to the front 
campus, where they sat down under the 
elms in front of Old ^sTorth to rest. 

‘^It ’s a great old building, is n’t it?” 
said Reeves. See how covered with ivy 
it is. Every graduating class plants a 
piece at commencement; it ’s one of the 
big exercises, with an oration and all that. 
The fellows here have great times, I tell 
192 


A Glimpse of Princeton 

you. We must come over some evening 
next spring and hear the senior singing; 
the whole class sits on the steps there, 
and sometimes the banjo and mandolin 
clubs come out too. Can you sing?” 

“No,” said Tommy, “I can’t sing.” 

“It ’s a great thing to get on the glee 
club. But no matter; you ’re certain to 
make the football team, and that ’s better 
yet. Nothing ’s too good for you if 
you ’re on the team. Wait till you see 
the Yale game!” 

Tommy drew a deep breath of joy and 
longing. W ould it ever come time ? Was 
it not all a dream, that would presently 
fade and vanish? He looked about 
again at the great buildings, the long, 
winding walks, the level, close-clipped 
campus. 

The extent and complexity of the col- 
lege world dazzled him. He began to 
understand what a great college really is, 
and his heart leaped to a faster measure 
at the thought that he would one day be 
13 193 


Tominj Remington' s Battle 

a part of it. He watched the students 
sauntering along the walks, smoking and 
chatting, and wondered if any of them 
had come from such a place as New River 
valley. He was quite sure that none had — 
he did not know that these boys wxre 
gathered together from every quarter of 
the world, and that some of them had 
worked their way up from even lower 
depths than the coal-mines. 

‘‘Let ’s have another try at locating 
Ralph,” said Reeves, after a time, and 
they again clambered up to his room in 
Reunion. They found a boy lolling 
lazily on the window-seat, gazing out 
across the campus. He looked around 
as they entered. 

“Is n’t this Ralph Reeves’s room?” 
asked Reeves, hesitating on the 
threshold. 

“Yep,” said the stranger. “At least, 
part of it is. The other part ’s mine. I ’m 
his room-mate. What do you want with 
him?” 


194 


A Glimpse of Princeton 

I want to see him. He ’s my 
brother.” 

“Oh, is he?” And the owner of the 
room looked at them with considerably 
more interest. “Well, I ’m afraid you 
won’t see him. He went up to New 
York last night to see Mansfield. He 
can’t get back till this evening, and I 
don’t much expect him before to-morrow 
morning.” 

Heeves concealed as well as he could 
the disappointment which this announce- 
ment caused him. 

“ Oh, all right,” he said carelessly. 
“ Come on. Remington ; we ’d better 
start back to Lawrencevillei” 

“ Here, wait a minute,” called the other, 
as they turned away. “You kids can’t 
walk ’way back to Lawrenceville without 
something to eat. I was just thinking 
about going to lunch. Come along with 
me. I ’m Holland, ’02,” he added, by 
way of introduction. 

Perhaps at another time Reeves might 
195 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

have resented being called a ‘‘kid,” but 
just now his stomach was clamoring for 
refreshment and was not to be denied. 

“All right; thank you, Mr. Holland,” 
said Reeves. “ This is Remington,” he 
added, pulling Tommy forward. “ He ’s 
my chum down at Lawrenceville.” 

Tommy turned scarlet with pleasure at 
this open avowal of friendship. Holland 
nodded to him, threw on a cap that was 
lying on the floor, and led the way down 
the stairs, across the campus, and to 
a boarding-house on University Place. 
Half a dozen other fellows were sitting 
about the table eating and talking, and 
Holland gave the two boys a general 
introduction. Tommy listened to the 
talk as he ate, but there was little of it he 
could understand, for such strange words 
as “ poller,” “ grind,” “ trig,” “ math,” 
“ cuts,” and dozens of others equally in- 
comprehensible, were constantly recur- 
ring. The meal over, they bade their 
host good-by, and started back to Law- 


A Glimpse of Princeton 

renceville, which they reached in time 
for supper. 

The routine of the place went on day 
after day without incident; only more 
than once Tommy found himself fighting 
the same battle over again. Reeves scru- 
pulously refrained from talking football 
to him, but he knew, nevertheless, that 
Sexton’s prophecy had been fulfilled, and 
that Banker was making a poor showing 
for left guard. That position was by far 
the weakest on the team, and more than 
once, as the season progressed, the oppos- 
ing team made gains through it which de- 
feated Lawrenceville. It seemed more 
and more certain, as the days went by, 
that they could not hope to win the great 
game of the season, that with the Prince- 
ton freshmen. Blake labored savagely 
with his men, but they seemed to have 
lost spirit. A deep gloom settled over 
the place, and the ill feeling against 
Tommy, which had bid fair to be forgot- 
ten, sprang into life again. 

197 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

The crisis came one afternoon about a 
week before the day of the game. Tommy 
was plugging away at his books, as usual, 
when he heard the door open, and looking 
around, saw Reeves and Sexton enter. 
One glance at their faces told him that 
something more than usually serious had 
happened. 

“What is it?” he asked quickly. 

“It ’s mighty hard luck, that ’s what it 
is,” said Sexton, sitting down despond- 
ently. “ Banker sprained a tendon in his 
ankle at practice this afternoon, and won’t 
be able to play any more this season. He 
was n’t such a great player, but he was 
the best left guard we had, and there ’s 
nobody to take his place.” 

Tommy sat for a moment, silent, looking 
from one to the other. The last sentences 
of Mr. Bayliss’s letter were ringing in his 
ears. 

“Is practice over yet?” he asked. 

“No,” said Reeves. “It had just 
begun when Banker was hurt. Blake is 
198 


A Glimpse of Princeton 

hunting around for somebody to take his 
place.” 

Tommy closed his book with a slam, 
pushed back his chair, and from one corner 
of the I’oom pulled out his old football suit. 

“What are you going to do?” cried 
Reeves, a great light in his eyes. 

“ I ’m going to play left guard,” said 
Tommy, as calmly as he could, and trying 
to steady his hands, which were trembling 
strangely. “Wait till I get these togs 
on, will you? ” 

But Reeves and Sexton had him by the 
hands and were shaking them wildly. 

“ I knew it ! ” cried Reeves. “ I knew 
it ! I knew he would n’t fail us ! I knew 
the stuff he was made of! We ’ll beat 
those freshmen yet.” 

“ Beat them ! ” echoed Sexton, dancing 
wildly around Tommy; “we’ll beat the 
life out of them ! Hurry up. Remington. 
Let go his hand, can’t you. Reeves, so he 
can get into his togs. Let the other fellows 
get a look at him ! It ’ll do them good ! ” 
199 


CHAPTER XII 


JOY ANJy SORROW 

M EAXAVHILE down on the football 
field an anxious consultation was 
in progress. Captain Blake and the 
manager of the team walked up and 
down together, talking earnestly. From 
their clouded faces it was easy to see 
how great their worry was. The players 
were grouped together uneasily, and the 
other students stood about, exchanging a 
curt word now and then, but for the most 
part silent. Gloom was on every face, 
desperation in every eye. 

There come Reeves and Sexton,” 
some one remarked, at last. ‘AVonder 
where they ’ve been? Hullo, who ’s 
that with them? By Jove, fellows, it ’s 
200 


Joy and Sorrow 

Remington! He ’s going to play, after 
all!” 

A sudden galvanic shudder ran through 
the group. They watched Remington as 
he walked up to Blake, and strained their 
ears to catch his words. 

“ Captain Blake,” he said, I ’m ready 
to take Banker’s place — that is, if you 
want me.” 

For an instant offended pride held 
Blake back. Then it melted away in a 
rush of surprise and joy. Even from 
where they stood, they could see his face 
light up. 

“Want you, old man!” he said, and 
held out his hand. “I should say we do 
want you ! ” 

One of the boys had his cap off and 
was waving it over his head. 

“Now, fellows, three cheers for Rem- 
ington ! ” he cried. “ Are you ready ? 
Hip — hip — ” 

There was a sudden rush of tears to 
Tommy’s eyes as that cheer floated to 
201 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

him across the field. How sweet it sounded 
with his name at the end ! But Blake had 
no time for sentiment. 

“Line up, men,” he called. “Hurry 
up. We ’ve got some hard work ahead.” 

His face lighted up with satisfaction as 
he saw the way the boys sprang into 
their places. It was the first time for 
days they had shown such enthusiasm. 
In a moment came the signal, and the 
scrimmage began. Tommy, recalling 
every bit of football he had ever learned, 
put his whole soul into the game. He 
was going to do his best to deserve that 
cheer. Blake gave them a long, hard 
practice, but when it was over his face 
was more cheerful than it had been for 
many days. 

“We ’ll be all right, I think,” he re- 
marked to the manager. “I think our 
line can hold ’em now without much trou- 
ble. And the boys have got their old 
spirit back — did you notice ? ” The man- 
ager nodded. “ Still, don’t be too sure,” 
202 


Jojr and Sorrow 

Blake added, with a captain’s character- 
istic caution, “ and don’t repeat that to 
any of the team. I want to keep them 
working.” 

Keep them working he did ; and how 
Tommy enjoyed it! What a reception 
he got at table ! He was again admitted 
to the freemasonry of fellowship which 
forms so precious a part of school and 
college life. His heart grew warm from 
touching those of others, his life grew 
bright and more complete. He went to 
his books with clearer brain and keener 
zest. He was no longer afraid of falling 
behind. And the old life of 'New River 
valley seemed farther away than ever. 

His attitude toward the old life is worth 
a moment’s attention. As the weeks passed 
he had found the work of writing letters 
to his father and mother increasingly 
difficult. How could he hope to make 
them understand his joys and sorrows, 
his hopes and ambitions, in this new 
life which was so far beyond their hori- 
203 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

zon? If he had not known that his letters 
would be read by Mr. Bayliss and Miss 
Andrews he would have broken down 
altogether in the effort at letter-writing. 
The task was the more nuAvelcome because 
it recalled to him the squalid conditions 
of the old life — the grimy house, the 
dingy beds, the dirty clothing, the ill- 
cooked food. He wondered how any one 
could ever stand it — how he had stood it 
and prospered as much as he had. He 
was never ashamed of his parents, though 
he never spoke of them to his classmates; 
it was only the home that shamed him, 
and he resolved to rescue the family from 
it and plant them in cleaner soil. 

A week is not a long time when it 
comes to whipping a football team into 
shape for a great game, and that one 
passed all too quickly for Blake. Rumors 
reached him of the perfect condition of 
the Princeton freshmen eleven — of their 
gi-eat team work and perfect interference. 
He gloomily watched his own men at 
204 


Joy and Sori^ow 

practice on that last day, and while he 
told himself he had done the best possible 
with them, he fancied he could detect a 
hundred weaknesses, and was anything 
but confident of the result. Still, they 
played good ball, he had a strong line, his 
backs were swift and game — well, Law- 
rence ville would have no reason to be 
ashamed of them. And just as he had 
hitherto hidden any satisfaction he may 
have felt, now, like a good captain, he 
concealed his doubts and affected a cer- 
tainty of success he did not feel. 

At noon of the great day came the 
Princeton team, accompanied by nearly 
the whole class — resplendent in orange 
and black, now they were away from the 
campus, where such decoration was for- 
bidden, and where, on their return, the 
sophomores would call them sternly to 
account for their desecration of the col- 
lege colors. They were seemingly quite 
confident of victory, and poured into the 
field with great halloo. Their team began 
205 


Tornjii}^ Remington's Battle 

at once a little preliminary practice, dis- 
playing a verve and agility that sent a 
chill to more than one Lawrenceville 
heart. But Captain Blake’s team got a 
hearty greeting, just the same, when it came 
running out upon the field, and for a time 
cheer followed cheer, until it seemed that 
they must split their throats. But the 
throats of school-boys and college men 
seem to be made of some unsplittable ma- 
terial, and in this case — as in all similar 
ones — there was no damage done. 

Then came an instant’s breathless si- 
lence as the two captains waited for the 
referee to toss up a penny. 

“ Heads ! ” called Blake, as the coin 
spun in the air. 

The referee stooped and looked at it. 

“All right,” he said. “Heads it is. 
Choose your goal.” 

Blake chose the north goal with the 
wind at his back, while Lawrenceville 
cheered again at this first piece of good 
luck. 


206 


Joy and Sorrow 

“Take your places, men,” called the 
referee, and the players peeled off their 
sweaters and trotted out into the field, 
rejoicing that the hour was come. “ Are 
you ready, Princeton? ” 

“ All ready, sir.” 

“Are you ready, Lawrenceville? ” 

“ All ready,” answered Blake. 

The referee waited an instant, then 
placed his whistle to his lips and blew a 
shrill blast. There was a swift rush, and 
the ball was whirling through the air. 
The game was on. 

What pen has ever adequately described 
a football game, with its multitudinous 
features, its ever-changing tactics, its 
kaleidoscopic advances and retreats, its 
thousand and one individual plays? Cer- 
tainly it shall not be attempted here. 

It was evident after a few minutes of 
play that the teams were more evenly 
matched than Blake had dared to hope 
and that the score would be a close one. 
Blake’s face cleared as he realized that 
207 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

his opponents were not so terrible as they 
had been pictured. 

Steady, fellows, steady,” he panted, in 
an interval between two rushes. “ Don’t 
yon fumble that ball^^ l^eeves. Watch 
your man there. Remington.” 

Indeed, Tommy found he had his hands 
full watching his man. Some exagger- 
ated story of his prowess must have got 
abroad, for the Princeton captain had 
placed the biggest and strongest man on 
his team against him. He was certainly 
bigger and heavier than Tommy, and in 
the first few rushes had decidedly the 
better of it. But as the game progressed 
Tommy saw with delight that his adver- 
sary was growing weaker, while he him- 
self was just warming up to the work. 
After all, six years’ work in the mines 
will outweigh a few weeks’ training, 
every time. Before long, Blake rejoiced 
to see that Tommy was holding his 
man, and that he even got past him 
once or twice ; but the first half ended 
208 


Jojr and Sorrow 

without either side having been able to 
score. 

The members of both teams received 
some pretty severe lecturing in the 
ten minutes’ intermission that followed, 
but, on the whole, the atmosphere in 
the Lawrenceville quarters was much the 
more hopeful. Princeton had entered 
the game quite confident of winning, and 
had met with an unexpected check, which 
served to dash her spirits. She had 
counted on carrying the ball down the 
field with a rush in the first few minutes 
of play, but, so far, had been unable seri- 
ously to threaten Lawrenceville’s goal. 
On the other hand, Lawrenceville had 
made a better showing than she had hoped 
for, and was correspondingly elated. 
Blake was especially happy, though he 
tried not to show it. 

As a consequence of this change of 
spirit, when the second half opened, 
Princeton found herself pushed down the 
field for small but decisive gains. In 
209 


Tomiiiy Remington^ s Battle 

vain she attempted to stem the tide of 
that advance. It seemed certain that 
Lawrenceville must score, and their parti- 
zans cheered themselves hoarse. But 
Princeton made a stand on her ten-yard 
line, rendered desperate by prospect of 
defeat, succeeded in getting the ball, and, 
by a long punt down the field, placed her 
goal out of danger. How Princeton 
cheered as that ball sailed twisting 
through the air! 

For a time after that it was nip and 
tuck in the middle of the field, and, as the 
minutes passed, Blake knew that the time 
for play was getting dangerously short. 
If anything was to be done, it must be 
done without delay. He looked his men 
over with calculating eye. Undoubtedly 
Remington was the only man for the play, 
for he seemed quite fresh, despite the 
rough time he had been having with the 
man against him. Blake looked at his 
bright eyes, firm-set lips, and distended 
nostrils, and made up his mind on the in- 
210 


Jay and Soi^row 

stant. He took advantage of the first 
opportunity, during a moment’s intermis- 
sion w^hile one of the boys was rubbing a 
twisted ankle, to outline his plan. 

“]Now, Remington,” he said in a whis- 
per, “ I ’m going to let you run with the 
ball. We ’ll push it as far down the field 
as we can, then, after the third down. 
Reeves, here, will pass it to you. Put all 
your steam into your legs, old man. I ’ll 
give the other boys the word.” 

Tommy went back to his place with a 
queer tingling at his heart. Ordinarily 
the men in the line do not get a chance 
so to distinguish themselves. It is the 
half-backs and the full-back who make 
the so-called “ grand- stand plays ” — those 
long, zigzagging runs down the field with 
the ball which raise the spectators out of 
their seats, and send flags to waving and 
men to shouting. The average looker-on, 
knowing little of the inwardness of the 
game, does not appreciate the hard work 
which the men in the line are doing every 
211 


Tommy Remington' s Battle 

minute of the time — there is nothing 
showy about it, nothing spectacular ; it is 
merely downright hard work. So Tommy, 
knowing that this would be his one chance, 
determined to make the most of it. 

Lawrenceville, nerved by the thought 
of a final effort, made three good gains, 
carrying the ball to Princeton’s twenty- 
five-yard line. But the Princeton captain 
had seen Blake’s conferences with his men, 
and suspecting that something was about 
to happen, passed the word around to his 
players to be on their guard. They made 
a desperate stand, and succeeded in hold- 
ing Lawrenceville for the second and third 
downs. Reeves pinched Tommy’s leg to 
remind him that his time had come — as if 
he had any need of a reminder ! He took 
a deep breath, there came a quick signal 
from Blake, and in an instant he was off, 
with the ball tucked snugly under his 
arm. 

As he sprang forward, he saw the guard 
opposite him whirled violently to one side, 
212 


Joy and Sorrow 

and he knew that the other members of 
the team were clearing his way. He saw 
one of the Princeton backs before him, 
but he, too, was thrown aside; and then 
Tommy saw that it was Blake himself 
who was interfering for him. Away down 
the held in front he saw the Princeton 
full-back sweeping toward him, and be- 
hind him came the pounding of many 
feet. Whether they were friend or foe 
he did not know, and he dared not glance 
around, but they seemed ominously near. 
Dimly and confusedly he heard the 
cheering of the crowd. Then the full- 
back was upon him. Tommy remembered 
the advice little Reeves had given him, 
and sprang full at his opponent at the 
instant he stooped to the tackle. Together 
they were hurled to earth. Tommy clutch- 
ing the ball with a grip only death would 
have loosened. He tried to hitch himself 
along toward the goal-post just ahead — 
so near he could almost touch it. He 
gained -a foot — two feet — a yard — with 
213 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

those desperate hands still clinging to his 
legs; and then, just as a crushing ava- 
lanche of men fell on him, he stretched 
the ball forward at full-arm length and 
called: 

“Down!” 

There was an anxious minute as the 
referee untangled the heap in order to 
get at the ball. At the bottom he found 
Tommy still grasping it tightly, and Blake 
gave a yell of triumph as he saw it. 

“ It ’s a touch-down, fellows ! ” he cried. 
“ It ’s six inches over the line ! ” 

Tommy, gasping for breath, heard the 
words, and for an instant his head fell 
forward in the sheer exhaustion of joy. 
Then it seemed that a thousand hands 
were lifting him, and when he opened his 
eyes a minute later, he found himself on 
the shoulders of a yelling mob which was 
parading around the field. They paused 
for an instant to watch Reeves kick the 
goal, and then started off again like mad- 
men. 


214 


THEN THE FULL-BACK WAS UPON HIM 


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1 


Joy and Sorrow 

‘^Let me down, fellows ! ” cried Tommy, 
struggling against the hands which held 
him by leg and ankle. Let me down. 
They ’ll line up again in a minute.” 

IS’o, they won’t,” yelled Sexton, who 
had charge of Tommy’s right leg. “ Time ’s 
up! You got the ball over in the last 
minute of play, old man.” 

He had his cap off. 

^‘^^ow three cheers for Remington!” 
he cried. “Are you ready? Hip — 
hip — ” 

But there was no response, for suddenly 
across the field they saw the head-master 
coming toward them. 

“ Does the old man want to congratu- 
late him, too?” asked Sexton of the boy 
next to him. “ I never saw him at a game 
before.” 

But as he came nearer, and they saw 
his face, they fell silent. In his hand he 
held a sheet of yellow paper. 

“ Put him down, boys,” he said quietly, 
and Tommy was set on the ground again. 

217 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

“ You must come with me at once, Rem- 
ington,” he added. I have bad news 
for you.” 

Tommy glanced at the yellow paper 
and saw it was a telegram. Instinctively 
he understood. 

“What is it, sir?” he gasped. “An 
accident at the mine?” 

“ Yes, an accident at the mine.” 

So the old life was going to ruin the 
new life, after all ! 

“ And father is hurt? ” 

“Very badly hurt,” said the head-master, 
tenderly. “ You must start home at 
once.” 

“But he is not dead?” cried Tommy. 

“ ]Sro, not dead — yet.” And he led the 
boy away, too crushed to question farther. 


218 


CHAPTEE XIII 


BACK TO NEW RIVER VALLEY 

T he hour which followed remained 
always in Tommy’s memory as some 
tremendous nightmare. He remembered 
going to the gymnasium, removing his 
football suit mechanically, taking a bath 
and rub-down, and getting -into his other 
clothes. Then he made his way to his 
room, and Sexton, Reeves, and Blake came 
up and tried to tell him — each in his own 
way — how sorry they were, and to give 
him such crumbs of comfort as they could. 

“ Why, the fellows are all broken up,” 
said Reeves. ‘‘We were going to have 
a big celebration to-night, but that ’s all 
off. There is n’t one of us feels like cele- 
brating.” 


219 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

“ How could we? ” added Blake. “It 
was Remington won the game. But it ’s 
the first time in the history of Lawrence- 
ville that we did n’t have a blow-out after 
whipping the freshmen.” 

“ Maybe it ’s not so bad,” said Sexton, 
with an attempt at cheerfulness. “ He ’ll 
be coming back before long, — as soon as 
his father gets well, you know, — and we ’ll 
have the celebration then.” 

But Tommy heard little of all this. His 
thoughts were far away. He saw again 
the narrow valley, which seemed to shut 
out all the joy and warm, aspiring life of 
the outside world; the rows of squalid 
cabins, grimy with the dust of the mines; 
the bent, exhausted, perspiring men, labor- 
ing day after day far within the bowels 
of the earth, away from the pure air and 
the bright sunshine, able to earn but a 
bare livelihood, even by unceasing toil; 
and a shiver ran through him at the 
thought that it was to this he was return- 
ing. An hour ago the old existence had 
220 


Back to New River Vallejo 

seemed so far away, there had been so 
much to live for, the path before him had 
seemed so bright; and here it was closing 
in upon him like a great black thunder- 
cloud which there was no evading. 

Presently the head-master himself came 
in and told Tommy to pack up such cloth- 
ing as he might need, and he would be 
driven over to Trenton at once to catch 
the six-o’clock train, which would get 
him to Wentworth early the next morning. 
The packing was soon done, and he went 
down to the buggy which was waiting. As 
he came out from the dormitory, he saw a 
sight which first made him stare in aston- 
ishment, and then brought a swift rush of 
tears to his eyes. The boys — all of them, 
first, second, third, and fourth year alike — 
were lined up along the path, and as he 
passed them, each gave him a hearty hand- 
clasp. Some even ventured upon a word 
of sympathy, awkwardly and shyly said, 
but none the less genuine. Tommy 
quite broke down before he reached the 
221 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

end of the line, and the tears were stream- 
ing down his face unrestrained as he 
clambered into the buggy. As the horse 
turned into the road, he glanced back and 
saw the fellows still standing there look- 
ing after him. In after days, when he 
thought of those first months at Law- 
. renceville, this parting scene was dearest 
of all to him. 

It was only when he was in the train 
speeding southward, with no one to watch 
him or speak to him, that he dared put the 
future plainly before him. It was evident 
that if his father was killed, or so seri- 
ously injured that he could not go to 
work again in the mines, some aiTange- 
ment must be made to provide for his 
mother and brother. He knew too well 
how little chance there was that his 
father had been able to save anything. 
Something, then, would have to be done 
at once. But what? He shrank from 
the answer that first occurred to him. He 
turned his face from it, and set his brain 
222 


Back to New River Vallejo 

to work to find another way. But he was 
soon stumbling blindly among the intri- 
cacies of his own thoughts, and finally fell 
into a troubled sleep. But on the instant 
his eyes closed, as it seemed to him, 
some disturbing and terrible vision would 
dance before him and startle him awake 
again. 

At Washington he had a half-hour 
wait, and looked for Jim, the train-caller 
who had befriended him before, but he 
saw nothing of him, for that official 
worked only in the daytime. Yet he 
no longer felt ignorant and dependent. 
The crowd — which even at midnight 
throngs the station at Washington — did 
not astonish him as it had before. He 
knew, somehow, that he was quite a dif- 
ferent boy from the one who had made 
this same journey only three short months 
before. He felt quite able to- look out 
for himself. But as he was clambering 
up the steps to his train, a cheery voice 
greeted him. 


223 


Tommy Remington^ s Batth 

‘‘Why, hello, youngster!” it said. 
“Going back home again?” 

Tommy looked np and recognized his 
old friend the conductor. 

‘‘Yes, sir; back home,” he answered 
with a queer lump in his throat. 

The conductor saw how his face had 
changed. It seemed older and thinner, 
and the eyes were darker. 

“ Something wrong, eh?” hesaidkindly. 
“Well, I ’ll look yon np after a while, and 
we ’ll talk it all over.” 

Tommy made his way into the coach, 
hardly knowing whether to be glad or 
sorry at this meeting. He was longing for 
a friend to talk to, and yet he was vaguely 
ashamed of the confession he might have 
to make. Conld it be possible, he asked 
himself, that he no longer loved his father 
and his mother — that he was nnwilling to 
make a sacrifice for them as they had 
done for him? But then, the sacrifice 
asked of him wonld be so much the greater. 
It was nothing to sacrifice the body, bnt 
224 


Back to New Rwer Vallejr 

to sacrifice the brain as well — that was 
another thing. His breast had never 
been torn by such a battle as was wag- 
ing there now. 

The conductor did not forget his prom- 
ise. So soon as he had attended to his 
other duties, he dropped into the seat be- 
side Tommy. 

“Now, what is it?” he asked. “Tell 
me ; it ’ll do you good. Get into some 
trouble at school ? ” 

Tommy shook his head. 

“ No,” he said, “ it ’s not that. Father 
was hurt in the mines — and maybe — 
won’t — get well.” 

The conductor took the boy’s hands in 
both his ample ones and patted them 
softly. 

“ Don’t you worry,” he said. “ It ’ll 
turn out all right. These accidents al- 
ways look worse at first than they are. 
You ’ll soon be coming back again over 
this same road.” 

Tommy felt that he must speak — the 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

weight was too heavy for him to bear 
alone. 

“ I ’m afraid I ’ll never come back,” he 
said brokenly. ‘‘There ’s nobody now 
but me to make a living. You ’ve never 
worked in the mines. You don’t know 
what it is.” 

The other looked down at him quickly, 
and in an instant understood. For a 
moment he sat silent, considering his 
words. 

“ It seems hard,” he said at last. “ It 
always seems hard when we have to give 
up something we ’ve been counting on. 
But maybe, after all, we don’t have to 
give it up; and even when we do, some- 
thing better almost always comes in place 
of it. It seems, somehow, that nobody in 
this world is given more than he can bear. 
I ’ve felt, often, just as you feel now; but 
when I ’m particularly blue, I get out a 
book called ‘ Poor Boys who Became 
Famous ’ ; and when I read what a tough 
time most of them had, I come to think 
226 


Back to New Rwer Valley’ 

I ’m pretty well off, after all. Ever 
read it?” 

“No,” answered Tommy; “I never 
read it.” 

“ W ait till I get it for you. It ’ll give 
you something to think about, anyway ” ; 
and the good-natured official, who had 
not yet lost the enthusiasms of his boy- 
hood, hurried away to get the book. 

Five minutes later Tommy had for- 
gotten all about his own troubles. The 
first page of the book had opened another 
life to him, whose struggles made his own 
seem petty and unimportant. It was of 
George Peabody he was reading: born 
at Danvers, Massachusetts, in 1795, his 
parents so poor they could afford him 
little schooling ; at the age of eleven sent 
out into the world to earn a living; for 
four years a clerk in a little grocery, 
giving every penny of his earnings to his 
mother; his father dying and leaving him 
to support the family; his well-nigh hope- 
less search for employment, his finding of 
227 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

a humble situation, his perseverance, en- 
ergy, honesty — until, at last, he had built 
up for himself a mighty business. And 
then the great acts of benevolence which 
marked his later years: three hundred 
thousand dollars for the Peabody Insti- 
tute at his native town, where a free 
library and a free course of lectures were 
to be maintained, in order that other poor 
boys might be helped to an education; 
one milhon dollars for an academy of 
music and an art-gallery at Baltimore; 
three millions for the purpose of building 
comfortable homes for the poor of Lon- 
don; three millions more for the educa- 
tion of the negroes, who had just been 
freed from slavery and who were groping 
blindly for the light; scores of smaller 
gifts to colleges and charitable insti- 
tutions — until, at last, dead in London, 
he was mourned even by the Queen 
of England; Westminster Abbey was 
opened for his funeral; statesmen and 
noblemen bowed before his coffin; the 
228 


Back to New Rwer Valley 

noblest man-of-war in her Majesty’s 
navy was sent to bring the body back to 
his native land, which was in mourning 
for him from sea to sea ; and, at the end, 
he was laid to rest beside the mother he 
had loved so tenderly, his life-work done, 
his name imperishable. 

With a long sigh Tommy closed the 
book, and sat looking before him with 
eyes that saw nothing. But his task no 
longer seemed so difficult. This man 
had conquered even greater obstacles — 
why not he? The conductor came by 
and glanced at him, saw what was in his 
mind, and passed on without speaking. 

At last he turned to the next biography : 
Bayard Taylor — walking sixty miles to 
get a poem printed, and failing ; living in 
Europe on a few pennies a day, some- 
times almost starving, but always writing, 
writing, writing, until at last came victory, 
and a niche in the hall of fame where the 
great literatures of the world live forever. 
He read of Watt, of Mozart, of Gold- 
ie 229 


Tommy Remington' s Battle 

smith, of Faraday, of Greeley, of Moody, 
of Childs, of Lincoln. What a galaxy of 
great names it was! And when at last 
he laid the book down he could see the 
dawn just breaking in the east. He sat 
for a long time looking out at it, watching 
the sky turn from black to gray, and from 
gray to purple. The book had stirred 
him to the very depths of his being. 

‘Won have n’t finished it already, have 
yon?” asked the conductor, coming up 
behind him. 

Tommy nodded. 

“It ’s a great book, is n’t it?” And 
the conductor dropped into the seat a 
moment and took up the book fondly. 
“It ’s helped me over a lot of rough 
places. Maybe it will be of use to you. 
Will you keep it? ” 

Tommy looked at him, astonished. 
“Keep it?” he repeated. “Do you 
mean you ’ll give it to me? ” 

The other looked out of the window to 
avoid catching his eye. Somehow he 
230 


Back to New Ricei^ Vallejo 

found it no longer possible to patronize 
this boy. He had grown, had broadened; 
it was not the same boy he had met before, 
but one who interested him vastly more. 

“I want yon to have it, you see,” he 
explained awkwardly. “You can’t get 
a copy at Wentworth, while I can easily 
get another at Washington. I ’d like you 
to have something to remember me by. 
My name ’s on the fly-leaf. Will you 
take it? ” 

He read the answer in the boy’s eyes, 
and fairly pushed the book into his 
hands. 

“Put it in your pocket,” he said, and 
jumped up hastily. “^N^ow I ’ve got to 
go. There, don’t thank me. I know how 
you feel ” ; and he hastened away down 
the aisle. 

Tommy tucked the inspiring volume 
into his pocket, and turned again to the 
window. He was not at all sleepy — the 
hours had passed so quickly that they had 
left no fatigue behind them. He saw that 
231 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

the train was entering the mountains. 
Away and away they stretched, one behind 
another, steaming with mist as the sun’s 
first rays touched them. Mile after mile 
the train sped onward. The light grew, 
the earth waked; men could be seen 
working in the scant fields,women stand- 
ing at the cabin doors, children playing 
about their feet. 

And then the train flashed into country 
familiar to Tommy. He looked out again 
upon ^^ew River, churning its way along 
ovei’ its rocky and uneven bed, the moun- 
tains springing "straight up on either hand 
and almost crowding the train into the tor- 
rent. The sun had not yet penetrated 
here, and the heaps of slack and tottering 
coal-tipples along the road looked inex- 
pressibly dreary. 

More and more familiar grew the land- 
scape. Away up on the mountain-side 
he discerned the black opening that 
marked the mouth of the mine where his 
father had worked. There was the little 
232 


Back to New Rwer Valley 

school-house. He could hear the engine- 
bell clanging wildly. 

“Wentworth!” cried the brakeman, 
slamming open the door. “ Wentworth ! ” 

And in an instant Tommy was on the 
platform, where his teacher was awaiting 
him. 

“He is not dead?” he cried, looking 
anxiously into her face, dreading what 
he might read there. “ Don’t say he is 
dead ! ” 

“No, no,” protested Miss Andrews, 
smiling at him reassuringly. “ He is not 
dead. He is not going to die. But he 
wants to see you so badly ! ” 

Together they hurried up the steep, nar- 
row path. Miss Andrews wondering within 
herself if this could be the same boy she 
had known. He seemed so changed — 
years older. As they neared the house. 
Tommy caught sight of a familiar figure 
standing in the doorway looking down at 
them, and he ran forward and up the 
steps to the porch. 


233 


Tommy' RemingtoiTs Battle 

“ Oh, mother ! ” he cried, and nestled 
close against her breast as her arms 
strained him to her. 

His mother said never a word, bnt the 
tears were streaming down her face as 
she bent over him and kissed him. 

“ Come in an’ see your pa,” she said. 
“ He ’s been askin’ fer you ever sence it 
happened.” 

Tommy followed her into the little 
room, — how squalid it seemed now in 
comparison with the bright, airy rooms at 
Lawrenceville! — and stood for an in- 
stant, looking down at the wan figure on 
the bed. 

“ Tommy ! ” it gasped. 

AVhatever of coldness had grown into 
his heart melted away in that instant, and 
left him sobbing on his father’s breast. 
Then, suddenly remembering that his fa- 
ther was injured, he attempted to draw 
away; but those strong arms held him 
close. 

‘‘You ’re not hurtin’ me, boy,” he said. 

234 


Back to New Rwer Valley 

‘‘I ain’t hurt up here. It ’s in th’ legs. 
One of ’em had t’ come off, Tommy. 
I ’m ’feard my minin’ days is over.” 

“ There, now,” said Mrs. Remington, 
soothingly, “ don’t you worry. All yon ’ve 
got t’ do is t’ git well. Now go t’ sleep. 
Come away. Tommy ” ; and she drew him 
from the bed. 

It was only then, as they sat on the 
front porch with Miss Andrews, that he 
heard the story of the accident. His 
father, it seemed, had, by some chance, 
been working alone at the face of a new 
chamber, some distance from the other 
men. In some way a great mass of coal, 
loosened, perhaps, by a previous blast, 
had fallen upon him, pinning him to the 
floor. Fortunately, a pile of refuse at the 
side of the chamber had kept it from 
pressing with its full weight upon his 
head or body, but his legs had been 
crushed under it, and after trying in 
vain to extricate himself or attract the 
attention of some of the other men by 
235 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

hallooing, he had fainted from the pain 
and loss of blood. He had been discov- 
ered, at last, by a driver-boy, and it 
seemed quite certain he was dying. He 
was borne tenderly to his home, and it 
was then that Mr. Bayliss had sent the 
telegram to Tommy. A further exami- 
nation showed, however, that only his 
legs had been injured. The left one had 
been crushed so badly that the surgeon 
found it necessary to amputate it just 
above the knee. The patient had rallied 
from the operation nicely, there were no 
bad symptoms, and it seemed certain he 
would recover. 

There was a long silence when the 
story was told, and all of them sat look- 
ing down into the valley, each busy with 
his own thoughts. Suddenly Mrs. Rem- 
ington’s housewifely instinct asserted 
itself. 

“ Good gracious ! ” she exclaimed. 
“ What hev I been thinkin’ of ? Tommy 
ain’t hed a bite o’ breakfast! ” 

236 


Back to New Rwer Valley 

’m not hungry, mother,” he pro- 
tested. “ I ’ll wait till dinner. It ’ll soon 
be noon. You can get it a little earlier 
than usual,” he added, seeing that she 
was still bent on making him eat. “I 
want to go up on the mountain awhile. 
I can’t be of any use here, can I? ” 

“No,” answered his mother, regarding 
him doubtfully. “Your pa ’s asleep, and 
even if he wakes up, I kin ’tend t’ him.” 

“All right. I won’t be gone long”; 
and anxious to get away with only his 
thoughts for company, he started quickly 
up the hill. 

“Now I wonder — ” began his mother, 
looking after his retreating figure. 

“He has a battle to fight,” said Miss 
Andrews, softly, “ and I ’m certain he ’s 
going to win it.” 

The mother understood, and as she 
looked out across the valley her face grew 
gray and lined. 


237 


CHAPTER XIV 


A boy’s battle 

P on the mountain- side Tommy was 



indeed fighting the battle of his life. 
He had made his way mechanically to the 
top of the ledge of rock from which the 
spring gushed forth, and had flung him- 
self down upon the grass which crested 
it. He could see far down the valley, 
until at last, away in the distance, the 
purple mountains closed in and cut it off. 
The trees, which clothed them from foot 
to brow, had been touched by the first Xo- 
vember frosts, and their foliage fused, as 
if by magic, from sober green to golden 
yellow and orange and flaming red. 

He looked down upon it all, but not 
upon its beauty. For its beauty formed 


238 


A Boys Battle 

no part of the lives of the people who 
worked out their destinies here. The 
ugly places along the river were typical 
of their lives. For them it was only to 
dive deep into the earth and drag forth 
the black treasure that had been entombed 
there, to send it forth to warm and light 
the world and to move the wheels of in- 
dustry — to do this at the sacrifice of 
health and strength and happiness, and, 
worse than all, of intellect. Brains grow 
atrophied and shrunken where only the 
muscles are used; for brain, no less than 
muscle, demands exercise, else it grows 
weak and flabby. A picture danced be- 
fore his eyes of a group of stately build- 
ings overlooking a wide and level campus, 
where men worked, not with their hands, 
but with their brains, with all the intel- 
lectual wealth of the world before them. 

Let it not be inferred that there is 
aught in this to lessen the dignity and 
merit of manual toil. No man of real 
attainment ever thought to do that. It is 
239 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

only when that toil makes the man a 
machine, when it shuts out light from the 
mind, that it is detestable and a menace 
to human happiness. 

Of all that the broader life meant. 
Tommy had just begun to understand the 
meaning. He had taken his first draught 
of the sweets of study and of intellectual 
fellowship, and the taste would linger in 
his mouth forever, making all others stale 
and insipid by comparison. Must he de- 
cide deliberately to turn away from the 
source of that enjoyment? Was there no 
other way? 

And then, of a sudden, a thought came 
to him which stung him upright. He 
owed Jabez Smith three hundred dollars. 
He must not only provide for father and 
mother: he must also repay that money. 
He dropped back again upon the turf 
with tight-closed lips. What a tremen- 
dous sum it seemed ! But other boys had 
done as much, and suddenly remembering 
his book, he drew it from his pocket and 
240 





i 


UP ON THE MOUNTAIN-SIDE TOMMY WAS INDEED FIGHTING 
THE BATTLE OF HIS LIFE.’* 


I 




A Boy's Battle 

turned over the pages. It was under the 
name of Horace Greeley he found what 
he was seeking: 

He could go to school no longer, and 
must now support himself. From earliest 
childhood he had determined to be a 
printer ; so, when eleven years of age, he 
walked nine miles to see the publisher of 
a newspaper and obtain a situation. The 
editor looked at the small, tow-headed 
boy, shook his head, and said, ^You are 
too young.’ With a heavy heart, the 
child walked the long nine miles back 
again. But he must do something; and, 
a little later, with seventy-five cents in 
his pocket, and some food tied in a bundle, 
which he slung on the end of a stick over 
his shoulder, he walked one hundred and 
twenty miles back to 'New Hampshire, to 
see his relatives. After some weeks he 
returned, with a few more cents in his 
purse than when he started.” 

At last he succeeded in getting appren- 
ticed to a printer, and was laughed at for 
243 


Tommy Remington' s Battle 

wearing threadbare clothes. “Ah, they 
did not know that every penny was saved 
and sent to the father, struggling to clear 
a farm in the wilderness of Pennsylvania. 
During his four years’ apprenticeship he 
visited his parents twice, though six hun- 
dred miles distant, and walked most of 
the way.” But he was soon thrown out 
of work again. 

“ After trying various towns, he found 
a situation in Erie, taking the place of a 
workman who was ill, and for seven 
months he did not lose a day. Out of his 
wages — eighty-four dollars — he had 
used only six — less than one dollar a 
month! Putting fifteen dollars in his 
pocket, he took the balance of sixty-three 
in a note, and gave it to his father.” 

And this man had become one of the 
greatest editors the country had ever 
seen, had been nominated for President, 
had left an indelible mark upon the 
nation’s history. Tommy closed the book 
and replaced it in his pocket. , The strug- 
244 


A Boy's Battle 

gle was quite over, and he went calmly 
down to the house. 

His mother looked at him with anxious 
eyes as he entered, but the calmness of 
his face seemed to reassure her. The 
meal was on the table, and he sat down 
to it with a hunger born of his long 
fasting. 

“Where ’s Johnny?” he asked sud- 
denly, seeing that his younger brother’s 
place at table remained vacant. 

“Mis’ Jones took him,” answered his 
mother. “ I did n’t want anybody t’ tend 
to but your pa after th’ accident. Mis’ 
Jones said she ’d look out fer him fer a 
few days.” 

“ How is father? ” 

“ Still asleep. A long sleep ’ll do him 
good, th’ doctor says. But nothin’ can’t 
make his leg grow out ag’in.” 

“No,” said Tommy, “nothing can do 
that.” 

His mother went on with the meal in 
moody silence. 

17 


245 


Toinuiy Reinington's Battle 

“ I s’pose you hed a nice time out 
East? ” she asked at last. 

“Yes, a nice time. There were a lot 
of nice fellows there.” 

“An’ could y’ keep up with them?” 

“Yes; I managed to keep up. It was 
a little hard at first, but it grew easier 
after a while.” 

There was a proud light in her eyes as 
she looked at him. 

“ Y’ mus’ go back,” she said, “ soon ’s 
y’ kin. Y’ must n’t fall behind. We ’ll 
git along here some way.” 

“We’ll see,” he answered simply. “I 
can’t go back till father ’s out of dan- 
ger. There ’s no hurry. A whole year 
would n’t matter much.” 

There was a tone in his voice which 
brought his mother’s eyes to his face, 
and a look in his face that held them 
there. 

“ You ’re changed,” she faltered. “ Y’ 
seem older.” 

“I am older,” said Tommy. “I feel 
246 


A Boys Battle 

years older — old enough, certainly, to do 
a little work.” 

She sat looking at him, dreading what 
would come next. 

“Where are my old clothes?” he 
asked — “ the clothes I used to work in? ” 

Then she understood. 

“Not that!” she cried. “Oh, not 
that ! ” and would have come to him, but 
he waved her back, and she sank again 
into her chair. For an instant he felt 
immeasurably older than his mother. 

“ There ’s no use trying to get around 
it,” he said, as calmly as he could. “ I ’ve 
got to go to work, and till something bet- 
ter shows up I ’ve got to take father’s 
place in the mine. I can do the work, 
and I ’m going to begin right away. 
Where are my clothes?” 

She rose as one dazed, went to a closet, 
and drew out the grimy garments. He 
shuddered as he looked at them. His 
mother saw the movement of disgust, and 
understood it. 


247 


Tommy Remington^ s Battle 

‘‘ It sha’n’t be ! ” she cried, and flung 
the garments back into the closet and 
shut the door. 

But Tommy had already conquered 
the moment’s feeling. 

Come, mother,” he said, “ we ’re 
making a mountain out of a mole-hill. 
Why should n’t I go back to the mine? 
It ’s only for a little while, till I can find 
something else. I ’m sure I can soon find 
something else. Give me the clothes.” 

She made no movement, and he opened 
the door and took them out himself. 

“I ’ll be back in a minute,” he said, 
and went into the other room. 

His loathing came back upon him as he 
slowly donned the dirty garments. For 
three months he had been clean, and he 
had reveled in the luxury of cleanliness. 
But that was all over now. The coal- 
dust would conquer him as it had done 
before. But he shook the thought from 
him, and was quite himself when he came 
out again into the kitchen where his 
248 


A Boy's Battle 

mother was. She was sitting on a chair, 
her lips quivering, her eyes misty with 
tears. 

“ Come here. Tommy,” she said. 
‘‘ Come an’ kiss me. You ’re a good boy. 
Tommy.” 

He went to her, and she put her arms 
convulsively about his neck. He stooped 
and kissed the trembling lips, then gently 
loosed her arms and stood away. His 
eyes were luminous with the joy of 
sacrifice. 

‘‘I must go,” he said. “The whistle 
will blow soon. Remember, I ’ll be 
hungry for supper,” he added gaily. 

“ I ’ll remember,” she answered, almost 
smiling. What a supper she would have 
for him! 

She stood on the porch watching him 
as he went down the path and up the 
opposite hillside toward the mine. How 
often had she watched her husband so! 
He looked back just before he passed 
from sight and waved his hand to her. 

249 


Tommy RemingtoiTs Battle 

But there was a scene on the hillside 
she could not see, for as the boy turned 
away a harsh voice startled him. 

“Ain’t you Tommy Remington?” it 
asked. 

He looked up with a start and recog- 
nized Jabez Smith. 

“Yes, sir,” said Tommy, quickly, “ and 
I want to thank you, sir, for — ” 

“Stop! ” cried Jabez, in a tremendous 
voice, “^^ot a word. Where you goin’ 
in them clothes? ” 

“To work,” faltered the boy, aston- 
ished at this unexpected outburst. 

“Where?” asked Jabez, sternly. 

“ At the mine.” 

“ At the mine ! ” roared J abez. “ W ell, 
I ’ll be blowed! Es thet all your I’arnin’ 
amounts to? You go away t’ study, an’ 
then come hum an’ go t’ work ag’in in th’ 
mine ! ” 

“We need money,” said the boy, tim- 
idly. “I can do this until I find some- 
thing better.” 


250 


A Boy's Battle 

“ Did your father an’ mother send you 
up here? ” 

Tommy colored at the tone of his 
voice. 

N^o, sir,” he answered quickly. Fa- 
ther knows nothing about it. Mother 
tried to keep me from coming.” 

J abez stood and looked at him steadily 
for a full minute. 

“I must go,” said Tommy. “I ’ll be 
late if I don’t hurry.” 

“ W ait a minute ” ; and J abez impres- 
sively drew a great wallet from an inner 
pocket. “You seem t’ fergit thet* I ’ve 
got somethin’ t’ say about this — thet 
I ’ve got an int’rust in y’.” He opened 
the wallet and selected a strip of paper 
from the mass of documents with which 
it was crammed. “ D’ y’ know what this 
is?” he asked, holding it out. 

Tommy glanced at it, and blushed to 
his ears. 

“ Yes, sir, I know. It ’s my note for 
three hundred dollars. That ’s another 
251 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

reason I must get to work. I think I 
can pay you two dollars a week on it.” 

But J abez stopped him again. 

“ Who said anything about pay? ” he 
demanded savagely. “I ’m a business 
man. I Ve lent you this money at five 
per cent. — a good int’rust. I ’d counted 
on keepin’ it out six or eight year any- 
way, an’ six hunderd dollars more on th’ 
same terms. What right ’ve you got t’ 
upset all them calcerlations ? ” 

Tommy stared at him aghast. The 
thought crossed his mind that maybe Mr. 
Smith was mad. 

‘‘Oh, I can’t take any more of your 
money,” he faltered. “ It ’s not business.” 

“It ain’t?” repeated Jabez, with fine 
irony. “What d’ y’ know about it? I 
say it is business.” 

“ But that ’s not all,” protested Tommy. 
“ Somebody ’s got to take care of father 
and mother and Johnny.” 

Jabez threw up his hands with a ges- 
ture of despair. 


252 


A Boy's Battle 

‘‘ What ails the boy? ” he cried. “ D’ 
y’ s’pose any man ’s goin’ t’ starve in this 
free an’ enlightened country? Why, th’ 
superintendent up at the mine told me yes- 
terday thet he counted on givin’ Reming- 
ton a job es watchman.” 

Now, the superintendent had really 
told him that, but only after much press- 
ing, of which Jabez said never a word. 

Tommy stood staring at the kindly 
eyes and severe face, trying to under- 
stand it. 

“Now are y’ goin’ t’ stop interferin’ 
with my business? ” demanded Jabez. 

“ I can’t,” faltered Tommy, again. 
“I ’ve no claim.” 

At that instant the mine whistle blew 
shrilly; but the boy felt an iron hand on 
his arm that held him to the spot. 

“ Don’t go,” said Jabez. “ Come ’long 
with me down t’ th’ house, an’ I ’ll show 
y’ whether there ’s any claim. Come on.” 

His voice was no longer harsh. It was 
soft, almost gentle. The boy began 
253 


Tommy Remington’s Battle 

dimly to understand what was going on 
in this man’s heart, and followed him 
down the hill without a word, without a 
thought of resistance. Jabez led him 
straight to an upper room fitted up as a 
kind of office. Tommy caught a glimpse 
of another room beyond through the half- 
open door. 

“ Set down,” said Jabez, and unlocked 
a heavy chest which stood in one corner 
of the room. He took out a little case 
and handed it to Tommy. 

“ Look at it,” he said. 

It was an old daguerreotype — a boy 
of ten or twelve, with bright face and 
wide-open, sparkling eyes. 

“ Thet ’s me,” said Jabez. 

Tommy glanced from the fresh face of 
the picture to the grizzled one opposite 
him. 

“Ay, look,” growled the man. 
“You ’d ha’ looked a long time afore 
you ’d ’a’ knowed it. I spiled my life — 
no matter how. ^N'ow you ’re goin’ t’ 
254 


A Boy's Battle 

make me spile another. Don’t y’ reckon 
one ’s enough? ” 

His voice was quivering with emotion. 

Don’t y’ reckon one ’s enough?” he 
repeated. I ’ve allers wanted th’ chance 
t’ set some boy straight on th’ right road, 
but I had n’t found the boy worth it. 
I ’ve watched you from th’ time Miss 
Bessie showed y’ t’ me at the school- 
house. I ’ve heard ’em talkin’ about y’, 
an’ I ’ve seen what was in y’. All th’ 
time y’ was studyin’ I was watchin’, an’ 
at last I said t’ myself : ‘ J abez Smith, thet ’s 
th’ boy you ’ve been lookin’ fer. You ’ve 
spiled one life, but, with God’s help, 
you ’re goin’ t’ make up fer it now.’ An’ 
I ’ve lived in it, an’ gloried in it. It ’s 
been meat an’ drink t’ me. An’ here 
you ’re goin’ t’ snatch it away ! ” 

He paused with a kind of sob in his 
voice that seemed to choke him, while 
Tommy sat staring at him, long past the 
power of reply. But the sob was echoed 
from the other room. 

255 


Tommy Remington's Battle 

“ I wori^t be still ! ” cried a voice, and 
the door was thrown back and Bessie 
Andrews appeared on the threshold. 
“I ’ve heard every word,” she continued 
through her tears. “ I could n’t help it. 
I was just coming to see you, Mr. Smith. 
I ’m glad of it ! ” 

Jabez slowly drew his handkerchief 
from his pocket and mopped his brow in 
a dazed way. 

‘‘Why don’t you speak to him? ” cried 
the girl to Tommy. “ But you don’t 
know all about him that I do. Come 
here with me this instant”; and she 
threw herself on her knees before the 
older man. 

But he caught her and held her up. 

“Don’t,” he protested brokenly. “I 
can’t stand it. Only make him listen. 
I ’ve got a right t’ tell him what t’ do. 
If he only knowed how empty my heart 
is! ” 

There was something in the tone that 
brought the quick tears to the boy’s eyes. 

256 


A Boy’s Battle 

His boyish obstinacy and pride melted 
away as he gazed into the other’s tender 
face. He was drawn out of his chair by 
some power greater than himself, and in 
an instant was in the other’s arms, sob- 
bing upon his breast. He knew that the 
problem had been solved. 

“He ’s pure gold,” said Jabez Smith, 
with his hand on Tommy’s shoulder; 
“ he ’s just pure gold. I knowed it when 
I seen him goin’ up t’ th’ mine with these 
here clothes on. An’ he sha’n’t stay in 
th’ rough. We ’ll make him int’ the 
finest piece of work th’ colleges of this 
country kin turn out.” 

But the girl, looking fondly at them, 
knew that they were both pure gold, and 
that the old, rough, world-worn nugget 
was more beautiful than the hand of man 
could make it. 


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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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